


Eram quod es; Eris quod sum

by Modernise



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Apple of Eden, Assassin's, Cigarettes, High School, Hugs, I like big butts so I cannot lie, Kissing, M/M, Modern Era, Templars, Was supposed to be depressing but hey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modernise/pseuds/Modernise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik Al-Sayf's life consists only of cigarettes, alcohol, money, and depression. That all changes when he meets a certain someone. And then the Apple of Eden happens. Things start to get a bit weird after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dunhill, Davidoff, and Jack Daniels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's musically influenced! I was listening to "Super Rich Kids" by Frank Ocean feat. Earl Sweatshirt and I started thinking, "Hmm... what if I write a fanfic version of this...?" and then this happened. I admit, Altaïr might have had a better chance at playing the "Depressed Rich Kid" role, but there's something about Malik. His life wasn't any easier, either. In fact, I believe it was crueler than that of any Assassin.
> 
> However, only Chapter One is depressing, the next chapters are more light-hearted and not as dark as the first, so fear not!

Malik Al-Sayf looked around his environment. It was littered with Dunhill and Davidoff boxes, whilst empty bottles of Jack Daniels and various wines were shattered on the floor. He reached for another cigarette.

He had promised himself that he would stop, but promises meant nothing to him. Cigarette in hand, he snatched his lighter. He lit the cigarette and inhaled. Smoke puffed out through his nose and mouth.

It is then when a servant opened the door to his room. Malik did not acknowledge her presence. She peered inside and grimaced due to the overpowering smell of cigarette smoke.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

Malik went into hysterics.

He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and attempted to throw it in the maids direction. His aim was terribly inaccurate and it ended up hitting a lamp across the room. The maid looked horrified.

" **Get out!** " Malik angrily growled.

The maid left and closed the door promptly.

Malik started sobbing uncontrollably. He was alone. He had always been alone. His shoulders shuddered and he rested his head on his desk, between his arms. He felt his salty tears rolling down his cheeks. His lips and fingertips still burned from all those cigarettes. When they came in contact with his tears it stung.

"No," Malik whimpered to himself. "Everything _isn't_ alright."


	2. The Final Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio beseeches Malik to attend his party. Knowing that he throws the best parties, Malik agrees, though unwilling at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as depressing, but it does give a bit of background information. If it isn't clear already, then I'll just say it: _Malik is wealthy_. Well, in this fanfic, though. And [this](http://allahdammit.deviantart.com/art/I-smell-perfume-308920000) is what I imagined Malik to wear (minus Altaïr). _I am not claiming that I own the image, credit goes to the original owner_.
> 
> The watch which Malik was putting on was also supposed to be the Oyster Perpetual Datejust II by Rolex (I didn't specify it in the text). Alright, I suppose that's everything. (:

He was the boy who owned everything but had nothing. He was the boy who was so poor that the only thing that he had was money.

Ever since he was but a wee chap, Malik had been alone. 

He dried his tears and stood up, a bit wobbly at first. He walked over to his nightstand and gazed longingly at the photograph resting on top of it. There was a smiling woman holding a baby, standing behind a jovial young lad. An older man stood beside her, stern in posture, wearing a suit with a light smile on his lips. His hand was on her shoulder. 

What had happened to those days? It was a topic which he pondered over on a daily basis. That woman, his mother, died shortly after labour. Malik was only six or seven. His memories about her were a bit fuzzy. Malik's father had been a broken mess ever since. As a wealthy businessman, he was constantly traveling due to his job. Malik and his father rarely got the chance to see each other, and when they did it always ended bitterly. Relationships were strained between the two. Malik at the very least had his younger brother, Kadar, around. But that only lasted a while. He ended up dying in an accident. That left Malik truly alone, and gave his father an excuse to be even more withdrawn towards Malik and his family. The father-son relationship the two had were hostile.

Malik's only comfort was found in the form of alcohol and cigarettes. They were the only things which helped calm him.

Other than tea and books. He enjoyed reading a good book while drinking tea or coffee, preferably on a rainy day. He enjoyed tranquility and serenity.

And although he seemed somewhat disheveled, both physically and mentally, he did exceptionally well in his studies. 

He attended a private school filled with snooty caucasian kids, and he was one of the only non-caucasian students.

Malik's phone suddenly began to vibrate. He found himself thankful for the abrupt distraction. Anything to keep him from thinking about his family and all the drama in between.

Malik grabbed his mobile.

He had received a text from his close friend, Ezio.

"hey broski" it said.

Malik groaned. Ezio always used these stupid terms.

"what do you want?" Malik tapped in.

"party @ my house 7pm. lotsa hot girls too ;)"

Malik felt like banging his head against a wall.

He hated it when Ezio used those stupid kinky emoticons. Or winky faces. Or whatever you call them.

"not in the mood"

"aww why not?"

"just b/c"

"you sad?"

"just shut up and leave me alone"

"not doing that till you say your going"

"*you're"

"*shut the fuck up"

"i swear im getting you a dictionary for christmas"

"nope. already got me one last xmas"

"oh"

"yep"

"..."

"well your still going to that party.

oh, wait excuse me, *YOU'RE"

"you're an arse, you know that?"

"love you too bbz"

"why am i still friends with you smh"

"thats what bffffffffffffffffffl's are for!!!!!!1!"

"just. shut up. you sound like a 12 yr old"

"i know you are but what am i"

"ok no i am done"

"fine, be done. but if you dont come to the party by 7.30 imma personally come to you're house and drag you into my car and driving you there, alright love?"

"FUCK bro it's *your"

"but you just said *you're"

"you only use you're as in YOU'RE a fucking idiot  
you use your as in get YOUR shit, or more appropriately grammar, together"

"love you too darling"

"k now stop texting me so i can get ready"

"np. by 7.30, remember"

Malik set down his phone.

He didn't feel like attending the party, but he knew that Ezio would throw a fit if he didn't attend.

Malik knew that Ezio threw the best parties on the planet. That was a proven fact. Enough booze, girls, and music for everyone to enjoy.

Malik would always end up passing out drunk, feeling like shit in the morning.

 _Every_. _Fucking_. _Time_.

Which is just another reason why Malik didn't feel like going. He already felt like shit, so why go and add salt to the wound? Malik simply just pinched the bridge of his nose. He walked towards his closet. Although he had _a lot_ of clothes for a guy, courtesy of his father, Malik still never knew what to wear. Usually he'd just wear whatever but whenever it came to parties or any public or social event Malik's haughtiness got the best of him. He had to look stunning, or at least acceptable, he just couldn't go looking like some fucking vagrant.

He was Malik Al-Sayf, the only living heir and offspring of some oil giant's CEO. 

It was embarrassing, Malik didn't even know the name of the company. Not that he cared too much, either way. He just knew that it would become his, some day.

Malik had two walk-in closets. One for all of his shirts, waistcoats, sweaters, jackets, and anything that could be worn on his torso. The other closet was there for the sole purpose of holding his pants, belts, ties, socks, and undergarments in one space. Every single article of clothing owned by Malik was from some major designer brand. Calvin Klein, Guess, Burberry, Versace, Lacoste, Tommy Hilfiger, and Dior were among a few of his favourites. Truthfully, Malik had little interest in clothing, but his father kept buying watches and shoes and shirts and clothes worth thousands for him. Probably out of guilt. 

But when it came to certain things, Malik liked to be organised. That's one of the reasons as to why his closets were relatively tidy. The other reason being, well, his maids who were there for the sole purpose of keeping the Al-Sayf estate in order.

Malik stared and pondered. After what seemed a year he decided what he was going to wear. 

He chose to wear dark, slim fit jeans with an ebony-coloured belt; both from Calvin Klein. To add contrast, he wore a white long-sleeved, two-button collar shirt from Guess, a grey-coloured slim fit waistcoat from Tommy Hilfiger over the shirt, and finally, to top it off, a black jacket from Dior. He grabbed an old, abused pair of black Vans. He didn't care if it wasn't as expensive as the rest of his garments. He walked over to his cabinet and fished out a silver Rolex watch. One of his relatives gave it to him for some special occasion, but he forgot who and why. The only thing he remembered was that it cost a shit ton of money.

Although Malik wasn't the most humble of people, he was fully aware that the total cost of his entire outfit was way more than the average person would pay. Some guy could just go to H&M and buy the same shit for 90% less. But Malik only wore designer and nothing less.

Malik looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes before eight.

 _Shit_.

Malik had to get to the party, and quick before Ezio would flip a table and create a huge soap opera. 

He quickly grabbed a random tie, any tie he could find. Whether it was pure luck, Malik wasn't sure but he ended up with a black and white tie from who knows which brand. He didn't bother looking, as he didn't have the time to do so. He sloppily wrapped the tie around his neck and made a knot to keep it in place. Next time he'd make sure to get someone to buy him some clip on ties because fastening ties around his neck were too time-consuming and aggravating. He made a mental note about that.

He then proceeded to grab his iPhone, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes.

"You never know when it'll come in handy," was Malik's only excuse for carrying cigarette's everywhere. True, it was illegal since he was still a minor. He was only seventeen, and he smoked _a lot_ for someone his age. He didn't care. He could easily bribe the police if that ever happened. He never got caught, too.

But Malik had made up his mind. The final verdict. He'd go to the party, but he'd also stay sober the entire evening. No alcohol whatsoever. That was for sure.

Even though promises meant nothing to him.

Malik was well aware of the fact.


	3. Of Parties and Liquor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik wakes up surrounded by booze and bodies with a headache. Uh-oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, I guess this chapter may seem irrelevant but I had fun writing it. It will make sense later on, _trust me_.  
>  From here on I think that I will have to change the rating of this fic because it's gradually getting more explicit. You'll see what I mean. (x

Malik's head pounded.

When he tried moving his limbs his entire body ached.

_What the fuck had happened?_

Malik slowly opened his eyes. He only saw black. He then realised that he had been laying face down. He groaned.

So he didn't keep his promise after all.

Malik rolled over and stood up from there. He winced from the pain. He then proceeded to absorb his environment. Still at Ezio's house. He sighed in relief. At least he wasn't half-naked in the middle of the woods like he was last time. He didn't want to think about it. How'd he even end up there? That's probably something he'd never know the answer to. Malik squinted his eyes. It looked like a tornado had just found its way to the party. Everything was upside down. Bottles and cigarettes were everywhere. Some guys and girls were still passed out on the floor. Malik sighed. Nothing had changed. This was nothing new at all.

He walked outside of the room and glanced at his watch.

A quarter past nine.

He had spent more than thirteen fucking hours here. Fortunately Ezio's parents weren't present. They were never home whenever Ezio threw parties. How did he explain himself to his parents when they came home to a house-turned-dumpster?

Malik proceeded to jump down the stairs. He nearly tripped over himself in the process. How much had he drank? Malik scratched his head. It was then that he realised that he was only wearing his jeans. He'd just lost pieces of fabric well worth over a couple thousand. He didn't care, he could always get new clothes. Besides, he had so much at his house anyways.

Malik managed to stumble into a bathroom. It smelled of vomit, cologne, and perfume. He was used to it and managed to ignore it. He inspected himself in front of the mirror. His hair was a mess. There were smears of lipstick on his cheeks, neck, chest, stomach, eventually going lower and lower. He looked like a mess. But he didn't have all day to stare at himself and play Narcissus. He was going home, even though he knew that he couldn't drive due to the pounding in his head. 

Where the fuck was Ezio?

Never mind him, it mattered not. Just get to the car. Malik staggered out of the lavatory and headed towards the front door. Why was everything spinning? Maybe he should just sit down and rest for a moment. But why rest when the door was literally right in front of him? Door it was. Malik grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open. He flinched from the brightness of the sunlight, which made his eyes sting for a brief moment. His eyes eventually adjusted and he located his car after much difficulty, even though it stood out due to the fact that it was the only Porsche. Malik slowly tottered towards the car. The keys were inside it, right? He tried peering inside. The windows were tinted. 

 _Shit_.

He still pulled at the door handle of the drivers seat. Much to his surprise, it opened. He practically fell inside. As he put his seatbelt on he realised that he was not the only one breathing inside the car. He slowly turned his head back.

It was Ezio and some girl.

So _that's_ where the bastard was.

Ezio looked at him with the strangest expression. He was grinning from ear to ear, yet there was a subtle hint of sheepishness in it. The girl just looked abashed. Then again, why wouldn't she? She was unclad, sitting on a striking Italian in a car she had believed was his.

All three of them stared at each other for a couple of minutes.

Malik broke the silence by shouting, "Ezio, what the fuck are you doing in my car?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, _amico mio_?" Ezio replied, a sly grin playing on his lips.

The girl just stared. What else was there to do?

"Well if you're going to go fuck some chick kindly do it in someone else's car thank you very much," Malik retorted.

The girl finally broke the ice. "Wait, so this isn't your car?"

Both boys goggled at her. One looked annoyed while the other looked a bit amused.

"What the fuck do you think?" Malik seethed.

The girl winced.

"Aye, that is no way to talk to _una bella ragazza_ ," Ezio muttered.

"We all know this  _bella ragazza_  of yours is just another one-night stand."

"Humour me."

"Alright no. Now both of you two, **get the fuck out**."

Ezio smirked at Malik, and surprisingly, he complied.

"I swear, sometimes you act like _il diavolo_ ," Ezio whined.

"That's my middle name," Malik murmured.

Ezio laughed and shook his head.

"You, my friend, are too much. But I shall be going then. See you later, Mal. _Ciao_ ," and with that Ezio hopped out, walking away, the girl already long forgotten. By then she had managed to clothe herself. She seemed a bit angry, disappointed, and embarrassed.

"See ya," she muttered, and with that she shut the door.

Malik face-palmed himself.

He fished in his pocket and found what he was looking for. He grabbed a lighter and a cigarette. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He slowly inhaled, watching clouds come out of his nostrils and mouth as he exhaled.

_Now what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary**  
>  \- _Amico mio_ = My friend  
>  \- _Una bella ragazza_ = A beautiful girl  
>  \- _Il diavolo_ = The devil  
>  \- _Ciao_ = Bye


	4. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio is in dire need of some assistance. And who would more helpful to him than Malik?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter was a bit sloppily done and rather short. However, it's a _pretty_ important chapter in this fic. Henceforth, everything goes completely 'cray cray'.

Malik assaulted his hands with his eyes as he stared at it with sudden interest. Still the same pair of hands he has had ever since he got shat out of his mother. He smirked to himself. Some son he was.

"Oi, Malik, you even listening?" Ezio whined.

Malik knew that Ezio hated it whenever he ignored him. He practically commanded attention from _every breathing thing_. Malik simply nodded his head in agreement, as if he really had been listening.

"What do you think I have been doing for the past forty minutes," Malik replied, trying to make it sound as if he really _had_  been listening to all his blabbering.

"Oh. _Scusa_. I though I lost you there for a moment, _amico mio_."

"Not at all."

" _Bene_. Now, please, I need your advice. What should I do?"

"Do to what?"

Ezio suddenly looked very annoyed.

"So you  _haven't_   been listening, have you?" Ezio muttered, stating it more like a fact than a question.

Malik simply stayed still. Although he wanted to, he knew better than to fight back, especially when Ezio had caught him red-handed. That would only make the situation worse.

"My apologies, now kindly recite your épopée for me to judge," Malik replied rather bluntly.

Ezio simply scowled, yet he showed no signs of resistance.

"OK, so you remember that hot _tesorino_  from the party?"

Malik groaned. Ezio took it as a sign to continue.

"Well, turns out that she told her best friend, and now he's after me."

Malik simply scoffed. This wasn't the first time something like that had happened, especially considering the fact that Ezio had practically been with _everyone_.

"Serves you right for being a man-whore," Malik chuckled. Ezio glared at him.

"This is something different. I guess I fucked with the wrong person,  _literally_."

"That was fucking terrible."

" _Sì, coglione_ , I am well aware."

"Alright, sure. But I don't even know how you expect me to help you with this bullshit."

"Yeah. You're right," Ezio growled, ember's starting in his eyes.

Malik didn't like where this was going. Besides, it was Ezio's fault. And even if it wasn't, how did he expect Malik, of all people, to come to his rescue? He didn't even know who the fuck that one-night stand of his was, or who that best friend-turned-lion was. Then again, he didn't really want to know. While Ezio was a perfectly capable lad, he wasn't asking for help for nothing. That meant that his one-night stands avenger was pretty strong and intimidating. Possibly stronger than Ezio. Ezio couldn't be left to be beaten to pulp by himself. He needed somebody stronger, more intimidating, more powerful than the stranger. And who else fit that role better than his old friend Malik Al-Sayf? Nobody would want to fuck with the best friend of some millionaire. Yet Malik really wanted to say no. To just tell him as crudely as all his other remarks to kindly fuck off. He was basically inviting more trouble into his life by helping Ezio. But it was his best friend who was in desperate need. As grouchy as Malik may seem, he certainly did _not_  let down his friends. That was the last thing he'd want to do.

Malik groaned.

"My apologies. How may I be of assistance?" Malik sarcastically enquired.

Ezio's face immediately lit up.

He knew that although Malik was being sarcastic, it was an apology. Yet, more importantly, it was also a ' _Fine, I'll help you_ '

" _Grazie_ ," Ezio laughed.

Malik simply rolled his eyes. He knew this wouldn't end well. Why'd he even bother? But there was one thing he was curious about, although he really didn't want to know.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_.

"Hey Ezio."

"Hm?"

"What's the name of those two?"

"Maria. And Altaïr."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary**  
>  \- _Scusa_ = Excuse me  
>  \- _Amico mio_ = My friend  
>  \- _Bene_ = Good  
>  \- _Tesorino_ = Sweetie; Babe  
>  \- _Sì_ = Yes  
>  \- _Coglione_ = Jerk; Arsehole  
>  \- _Grazie_ = Thank you; Thanks


	5. Wordless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik and Altaïr have a rather brief and awkward encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I'm so disappointed in the outcome of this chapter. D': I must admit, this is definitely not one of my best. Please excuse me while I go slam my head against the wall. #I Tried

For the next couple of weeks, Ezio stuck on Malik like a second skin. As much as it annoyed him, he knew it was the only way that Ezio would be safe from that Altaïr dude's wrath.

Altaïr.

He was that guy in Malik's classes. They both took AP Biology, AP World History, and Calculus together although they refused to acknowledge each others existence. Malik had never even spoken to him in his life. Not that he wanted to, since that guy seemed too arrogant and conceited for his liking.

Malik knew that he himself wasn't the most humble person either, but still.

Altaïr was just so... strange.

And those eyes. They looked like two liquid, golden orbs. It was rather intimidating. They reminded Malik how a predator looks at its prey.

Malik didn't blame Ezio for being scared of Altaïr. He was one aggressive fucker. And yet, Malik did feel a bit guilty and wanted to apologise to him. He wanted to apologise for being the best friend of the guy who slept with his best friend, and he wanted to apologise on Ezio's behalf. It was the proper thing to do, but Malik didn't want to get torn to shreds either.

In the end, Malik decided not to add salt to the wound. He pinched the bridge of his nose. His head hurt from all the thinking. Though it was a rather pointless thing to do, Malik decided that he'd go to the park to find some peace. Alone. It was only five minutes past eight in the evening, and the park was usually barren by then.

Malik grabbed his essentials (a bottle of Heineken beer concealed within a paper bag, pack of either Davidoff or Dunhill, a lighter, his iPhone with some earphones) and his house keys.

He headed for the door. 

Altaïr pouted. What a coward, hiding behind his friend for protection. Maybe he should just forget about the idiot, since clearly he wasn't worth his or Maria's time. Besides, he didn't fight people for such trivial matters. Fuck, he didn't even want to have anything to do with that Ezio guy. But Maria, she was his closest friend and he didn't want to bring her down. Not after all those damn tears she had shed.

' _A fucking apology would be nice_ ,' he thought.

That was the only reason why he attempted to interact with Ezio. So that he could just apologise to Maria. Altaïr didn't even _want_  to waste his time on Ezio; he'd much rather be doing other stuff.

He fiddled with his fingers for a bit. He was supposed to be doing his homework, but he was instead laying on the branches of one of the trees in a local park. Fortunately, there was nobody there so he had the quiet all to himself.

It was twenty minutes past eight in the evening.

He only had eleven hours till school started. He grimaced at the thought.

School.

Why did he even bother? He was barely passing his courses. Just barely. But what was the point of trying? No matter how hard you work, there's always going to be someone who can do it a billion times better than you can. There's always someone better. It wasn't fair.

But he still tried, oh how he fucking tried. He wanted to be the best. He knew that he was the best. As conceited as it seemed, it was the only way he kept his grades decent. He only had a 2.8 GPA. Maybe if he tried, he could bump it up to a 3.0 GPA. Maybe.

The sudden shuffling of feet interrupted Altaïr's deep thoughts. Great, now he wasn't alone. He glanced out through the leaves of the tree to see who it was.

Shit.

It was Ezio's 'personal bodyguard'. What was his name? Altaïr tried to remember, after all, he did have classes with the guy.

Malik.

That was his name.

Altaïr smirked. Well, looks as if Malik has unwillingly and unknowingly made himself Altaïr's company.

Malik propped himself on the grass, beer in hand. Although he knew that there was no sign of human life within a three mile radius, he still had a strange feeling that he wasn't alone. That he was being watched.

Malik shook his head in disdain. He was just being paranoid as always. Clearly there was nobody there, except himself. Yet he still couldn't put his finger on it. Malik tried his best to ignore it. He inspected his surroundings just incase he was right. Just as he had suspected. Nothing.

Malik sighed. Some Heineken would help calm him. He reached for the crinkled paper bag. He reached inside and grabbed the cool glass bottle inside of it. Its exterior was moist with condensation. That only made Malik thirstier.

Suddenly, as Malik was opening his Heineken, there was a loud thump coming from behind him. His eyes suddenly widened. So he _wasn't_  alone after all. He tightened his fists.

Malik turned around.

Although it was dark outside, he watched as two amber spheres stared back.

It was him.

Altaïr.

Malik felt blood rush into his face. 

What the fuck did he want? Was he stalking him now?

They both glared at each other for the next five minutes, as if they were in some sort of staring contest. Finally, Altaïr broke the barrier.

"What are you doing here?" Altaïr questioned

"I could ask you the same," Malik snapped, not bothering to hide his rather lucid irritation.

Altaïr grunted in response. Malik simply face-palmed himself. What the fuck had he gotten himself involved in? Maybe if he just ignored Altaïr and pretended that he wasn't even behind him he'd disappear.

Malik tried that and it almost worked. He silently sipped his Heineken. Then, being the juvenile idiot that he was, Altaïr broke Malik out of his illusion by asking,

"Is that beer?"

Malik tried very hard not to throw the damn bottle at him. He was sober enough to know better.

"I don't know, what the fuck do you think?" Malik growled. He suddenly found himself glad that he and Altaïr didn't interact much. He already had more than enough idiots to deal with, anyways.

Altaïr raised both his hands as if to surrender.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, eh?" Altaïr murmured.

Malik felt like murdering him that instant. Why was he acting as if they were close pals or some shit?

"I'm pretty sure you'd be acting the same way if your friend kept hiding behind you 24/7," Malik snarled.

Altaïr simply shrugged and stated, "I feel ya."

"No, you do not feel me. Especially when it is _you_  who he is hiding from," Malik retorted. At this point he was seriously fed up with his bullshit.

"Oh, so you think that I  _want_  to harass him?" Altaïr grumbled. He was starting to get irritated. "All I, or rather _Maria_ , wants is an apology. Nothing more, nothing less."

Malik suddenly looked very confused. "Wait, what?" he mumbled.

"Maria has been crying like a newborn. A sincere apology would be well appreciated," Altaïr groused flatly.

Malik stayed silent. The silence seemed to shroud around them like a thick mist. Damn, he should've just listened to himself and apologised for Ezio's deeds. Would it be smart to apologise now? So far, he wasn't torn to shreds, much to his relief. Yet he still found himself uncomfortable in the situation.

"Um, I need to leave," Malik muttered. He picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself. He then grabbed his now empty bottle of Heineken and threw it in the nearest garbage bin. Altaïr didn't say a word.

Malik didn't look behind, yet he felt a pair of eyes burning holes in his back.

None of them said a word.


	6. Change and Continuities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. AP World History class annoyed Malik to no end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a lot of characters. They are all from the AC franchise! I also attempted to be more descriptive... I am a tad bit satisfied with my efforts.  
> Lol I take AP World History, and let me tell you that those essays are a Goddamn pain, I swear. Malik's experience in/ with AP World History are based off my own, but I still love that class ahah. (':

Ezio thumb repeatedly smashed onto the top of the pen which was firmly gripped in his hand.

 _Click_.  _Click_.  _Click_.  _Click_.

"Are you sure that this is really necessary?" Ezio asked, evidently uncomfortable.

 _Click_.  _Click_.  _Click_.  _Click_.

Malik swore that he would go mad if Ezio did not stop. He grabbed at his already tousled hair.

"Stop that, you obnoxious fucker!" Malik growled. Ezio already knew that Malik wasn't playing, and he abruptly ended the clicking of the pen. He threw it across the table.

" _Mi dispiace_ ," Ezio murmured.

Malik nodded.

"And yes, _this_ is really necessary, unless you want to get a Z on this stupid thing. Something which I do not want happening, especially not in an AP class," Malik replied after a brief pause.

Malik leaned over and grabbed the papers in front of him, desperately trying to organise them in as little time as possible. It was their lunch break, both of them hunched over in the seats of the computer section in their schools library. They were supposed to be procrastinating on their essays due the next period. _Supposed to_ , the key words.

After organising the papers, Malik furiously tapped into the touch-screen keyboard of his iPad.

'change and continuities assyrians' was neatly written in the Google search bar, with the iconic logo right above, its gold, red, green, and blue hues staring back at Malik as if it was silently saying, "You're welcome."

Malik hit 'Enter'

He clicked on a WikiAnswers link. 90% of the stuff on that site was either brief, or plain bullshit. But, beggars can't be choosers, he supposed.

"Malik," Ezio whined. Malik shot him a look, yet he continued on. "We're leaving in twenty minutes. Hurry your ass up!"

"Some fucking help would be appreciated. And maybe if you'd actually _do_  something, we'd get that pointless essay somewhere," Malik retorted. Ezio pouted, but he did turn the computer in front of himself on. After two minutes he already opened up Microsoft Word, ready to be typing at Malik's command. Ezio was probably the fastest typer in the world. He could type faster than he could run his mouth, and if there was an olympic sport for talking, Ezio would definitely get a gold metal. He'd probably be tied with Clay, though. Where was Clay, anyway? He'd been absent for the past three days. Then again, that guy has a pretty shitty immune system.

"Hey, begin typing. I got the information," Malik ordered. Ezio nodded. He couldn't help but think that Malik was definitely the best and most efficient researcher there ever was.

"The Assyrians were one of the most vicious and aggressive empires of their time. They managed to conquer the mighty Egyptian empire, and overthrow their pharaoh, driving the Ethiopians and Nubians from Egypt. Their empire stretched from as far west as Turkey, as far north as present-day Armenia, as far south as Egypt, and as far east as Persia..." Malik droned on and on and on, adding more and more information for Ezio to type out. It was a wonder that neither of their heads blew up from over-thinking and overworking. Within a matter of minutes, their five-paragraph essay on the change and continuities of the Assyrian Empire for their AP World class was done. Malik quickly skimmed through the essay, editing when necessary.

They only had four minutes left till class started again.

Malik quickly pressed the 'Print' button. He then scurried towards the library's printer. After retrieving the two sheets of paper, the bell had already rung. Malik quickly fished out a couple of coins from his pocket and he placed it on the counter. He exhaled a breath of relief. They had managed to write a five-paragraph essay in less than thirty-five minutes. Although most people would be shouting in joy, Malik knew that it was expected of him from those stupid AP courses. He knew that he'd eventually have to write some stupid five-paragraph essay in less than thirty minutes in order to pass the class and get the college credits.

Ezio strode over to Malik, and Malik handed him one of the sheets of paper. Ezio grabbed a random pen on the counter, scribbled his name on it, and nodded his head in a silent approval. _Done_. They treaded towards their AP World class.

Malik grabbed the essays that were being shoved in front of his face from the person sitting behind him. He then added his own essay in the stack of papers and passed it to the person sitting in front of him. Some dude called Abbas sat in front of him, and he always tried to be perfect. Kind of like Altaïr, but in a more "wannabe" way. At least Altaïr didn't try, unlike Abbas. But Malik didn't care for him. They were neutral. Rauf sat behind him, and while Malik didn't mind that guy at all, he did get a tad bit annoying after a while. Then again, _every breathing organism_  annoyed Malik. Ezio, of course, sat next to Malik on his right, making Malik's AP World class hell. On Malik's left was Connor Kenway, one of the biggest wallflowers he had ever known. But they didn't seem to mind each other, and Malik got along with him just fine. He'd enjoyed a couple of beers with him at some parties. In front of Connor sat Daniel. Malik honestly didn't even know what the fuck Daniel was doing in an AP class, let alone _how_  the fuck he even got in one. Behind Connor was Altaïr, but that guy never even opened his mouth. He'd just glare in Maliks direction, probably at Ezio, and then go back at dozing off. In front of Ezio was definitely one of the biggest history nerds ever, a Brit by the name of Shaun Hastings, whose temper was similar to that of Malik's, or so they say. He spent approximately 60% of his time complaining about Americans and their unculturedness.

The rest of the class were students who Malik found insignificant. Well, not that Altaïr was significant. Dude scared the crap out of him.

"Remember, Unit One test is next week. I'll post up a study review online today," the teacher said. The AP World teacher was definitely one of the most slack teachers the world had ever known. Not that it's bad, but still. Malik would expect more for an AP World teacher. He didn't care though, less work for him.

"Take out your notebooks. Chapter thirteen: The Mongols," the teacher stated. Malik listened to the rather soothing sound of students shuffling, leaning down to grab their rucksacks and grab their AP World notebook, some whining and groaning about their hands hurting after taking all those notes. Those who were fortunate or wealthy enough were allowed to use their Tablets, iPads, and/or Laptops to type up the notes. Someone turned the lights off, and the teacher turned the SmartBoard on.

Malik felt two golden orbs boring into his head. It took all the strength in his body not to turn around and throw the empty water bottle resting on his desk at the idiot who was assaulting him with his eyes. He calmed himself, but the feeling of being watched didn't go away. Ezio would occasionally gape at him with worried eyes, and then look away.

Malik typed the notes into his iPad. Damn. Why hadn't he used the notes on his iPad instead of Googling the information on Assyrians? It was much better than digging through archives of Internet history.

Suddenly, Malik felt a tapping sensation on his left shoulder. It was Connor. Malik eyed him quizzically. Connor simply stared back innocently, then nodded his head towards the person sitting behind him, and handed Malik a slip of paper. Apparently Malik looked confused, because Connor simply shrugged, and he could have sworn that he saw Altaïr smirk out of the corner of his eye. Ezio faced Malik in interest. Then he suddenly turned away. Altaïr probably scared him away with a leer. Malik opened the paper with curiosity and vexation.

Scribbled with sloppy letters, one word was scratched on the centre:

"Sorry."

Malik crumpled the paper within his fist, but then reminded himself that he, too, wanted answers. He grabbed his pen and wrote:

"Why."

The contrast between their handwriting was visible. Malik had nice, neat, legible handwriting while Altaïr's "Sorry." looked more like chicken-scratch. Malik folded the paper and threw it in Altaïr's direction without looking behind. A soft grumble confirmed that Malik's aim was accurate. Soon enough, the paper found its way to Malik's desk.

"For yesterday."

"Um. Alright." Malik wrote. He passed it back. It quickly came back again.

"Yeah."

Malik scoffed. What was Altaïr's goal? What was he trying to achieve? So far the only thing that he had accomplished was to waste Malik's time, energy, and paper. Malik balled up the paper, aimed at the garbage can in the front of the class, and shot. The paper ball landed, and it was met with subtle cheers from the entire class. The teacher, of course, didn't notice.

Malik quickly glanced back. Altaïr was scowling. Malik turned to the front and was able to successfully tune him out for the rest of the period. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Ezio repress a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary**  
>  \- _Mi dispiace_ = I'm sorry


	7. Hydrophilic Enantiomers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Permanent lab partners were being announced for Malik's AP Biology class. No freedom to choose. _Great_. This wouldn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure you guys saw this coming. xD

"What _was_  that?" Ezio asked once they were outside of the classroom. Their AP World History class had ended, and it was time for Ezio and Malik to part ways to their separate classes. They usually walked each other to their classes, conversing simultaneously.

"I don't even know," Malik grumbled. What did it matter to him? It's not as if it was for him, or if it was even _about_  him.

"OK, fine," Ezio replied. They walked in silence. After a moment, Ezio added, "What did it say?"

"Nothing!" Malik growled. He then realised what he had done, and watched Ezio's face twist and contort as if he was some sort of creeper.

"I see," Ezio chuckled. Malik felt his cheeks getting warmer and warmer and warmer until he thought that they might explode from the heat.

" _Stai arrossendo_!" Ezio exclaimed gleefully. Malik suddenly had the urge to shove Ezio down a long flight of stairs which eventually led to a burning pit. Unfortunately, none of those two were currently supplied to him. After all, they just came from a stairwell. _Dammit_.

Malik simply groused in reply. Altaïr was an oddity. He didn't like Altaïr at all. Besides, why would he fancy a... a weirdo? He had barely even spoken to the guy, that guy who was hunting down one of his closest friends.

Ezio's fucking guts. Malik hated it.

Ezio noticed Malik's manifest discomfort, and slowly said, "I am just playing, my friend," with a huge, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Malik glared at Ezio, and then stuck his nose in the air, "Certainly."

Ezio snickered. They walked in silence, Ezio looking all smug while Malik's cheeks were tainted of a rose hue. By the time they had reached Malik's class, Ezio broke the silence.

"Here we are, _principessa_."

Malik leered at him. That caused Ezio to titter ever more. " _Dio mio_ , Mal!" He laughed. "See ya later... and enjoy your AP Biology class. _Ciao_."

Malik could have sworn that he saw Ezio wink at him. Sometimes that fool made no sense whatsoever. He silently shook his head and entered his class, plopping his rucksack on his desk and sitting down. Moments later, the bell rung and Malik listened to the sound of students in the hallways scurrying towards their classroom. He watched his fellow peers trudge into the room and plop down onto their desks.

"Your vocabulary quiz is today. You have five minutes to study," muttered the teacher.

Malik swiftly grabbed his notebook and reviewed the notes, listening to the, "Oh shit!"s and the "There was a quiz today?"s being groaned from his fellow classmates. 

"Hydrophobic," his notes said. "Having aversion to water tend to coalesce and form droplets of water," He frowned. What was wrong with the English language? Why did one word have to have a billion different meanings? He shook his head and continued studying.

"Put your notes away and take out a writing utensil," the teacher commanded. The students complied and within moments the classroom was eerily silent, the sounds of pencils and pens clashing against the paper echoing across the room.

Malik was the first to finish.

He felt triumphant. He treated quizzes and tests more like a race than anything else. He sat silently in his desk, occasionally stretching his back and closing his eyes.

After what felt like twenty minutes, the teacher announced, "Stop. Put your pencils and pens down and pass the quiz up."

The students once again acceded and passed the paper forward. Malik grabbed the papers from the kid sitting behind him, added his own quiz, and passed the stack of papers to the guy sitting in front of him, who grabbed the papers in turn and repeated the entire cycle until all of the papers were within the teachers grasp.

"As you all know, we're going to be doing a lab next class. You lot will be observing mitosis in action under microscopes." The teacher paused. "To prevent certain mature geniuses from horsing around and foul play, I will be picking your partners in a random draw." The students groaned at that. "Additionally," the instructor added, "Those partners of yours are  _permanent_. They will be yours for _the entire year_." That produced an even louder groan from the students. "And no trading partners."

Malik rolled his eyes. Just get that shit over with already. Apparently the teacher had noticed that, and said in a sticky-sweet voice, "Ah, Mr. Al-Sayf. Would you like to be the first to get your partner?"

Oh, the humanity.

Malik glared at his instructor for a brief moment before nodding his head.

Within seconds, his teacher had their hands in a hat. He watched as it romped around. This carried on for about thirty seconds until they decided that enough was enough. Malik suddenly felt a familiar pair of gold orbs eagerly scrutinizing his figure. He turned his head to face the offender. Altaïr. Mother fucking Altaïr. Altaïr continued to assault Malik with his eyes, and Malik responded by glaring at him and promptly turning his head. Shameless creep. Malik would probably jump off a cliff if Altaïr ended up being his permanent lab partner. He'd probably beg his teacher to make him switch partners, fuck, he'd even bribe if necessary. He'd buy them an apple orchard. Malik went back to watching the crumpled slip of paper being clutched by his teacher. His teacher slowly opened and scanned the piece of paper. They took a shallow breath and opened their mouth to announce Malik's partner. 

"Malik. Your partner for the rest of this year is..."

Malik yawned. What was with all the suspense? Just tell him the fucking name already and get it over with.

"Leonardo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary**  
>  \- _Stai arrossendo_ = You're blushing  
>  \- _Principessa_ = Princess  
>  \- _Dio mio_ = Oh My God; My God  
>  \- _Ciao_ = Bye


	8. Mishaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an accident... Altaïr really didn't mean to do it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. I feel bad for Altaïr in this chapter...

Malik breathed a sigh of relief. This was proof that there _was_  a God, and that prayers _were_  answered. All hope was not lost. He had gotten the best fucking partner anyone could ever get. Leonardo. Mother fucking Leonardo. That guy was just a whiz when it came to anything related to science, engineering, and artwork. He was one of Ezio's closest friends, Malik found those two together quite frequently. On top of that, he was a nice and jolly fellow, too. The best of both worlds. Malik was partnered with a friend of a friend.

Malik turned to Leonardo's direction and smiled. Leonardo smiled back shyly, his eyes bright and gleaming.

This was going to be good. A much better choice than Altaïr. Speaking of him, how was he reacting? Malik turned to his direction. Altaïr was sitting rather poker-faced, displaying no emotion. Altaïr kept his gaze fixed upon Malik, making him quite uncomfortable. Malik felt his cheeks heating up and turned around and stared at his desk, praying that Altaïr didn't catch him blushing. He didn't want him getting the wrong impression, thinking that he fancied Altaïr or some shit. Malik shivered.

Oh, God, _hell no_. Never in his fucking life.

He heard a scoff coming from behind him. That bastard.

"Malik. Leonardo. You two are lab partners for the rest of the year, no excuses," the teacher announced. Malik and Leonardo both muttered, "Yes," in unison.

The teacher seemed to approve. "Alright, as for the rest of you..." students were called up to draw slips themselves. Reactions seemed neutral, as students would either whisper, "Yes," to themselves or keep a neutral expression plastered on their features. 

Altaïr's partner ended up being Desmond Miles. None of the two seemed to show any reaction, not grief nor ecstasy. Desmond tried to be friendly and smiled at Altaïr, but all Altaïr did was nod at him and continue to gape at a rather uncomfortable Malik, while Desmond would doze in and out of daydreaming, lazily observing his surroundings.

Eventually, every student was paired up. Malik looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes left till class ended. 

 _Damn, that was quick_.

Altaïr wanted to punch a hole through a wall.

For fucks sake, _why_? Did God, or whatever great being it was, hate him? Ugh. Altaïr knew he fancied Malik. He wasn't one to deny that, not at all. He knew what he liked and what he wanted. Yet he didn't want to articulate it. Their relationship was already awkward and strained enough.

Malik didn't even give him a  _chance_. He'd hoped that maybe, somehow, a miracle would happen and he'd be partnered with that lovely Toffee-coloured boy. To no avail. He'd instead gotten a blond guy, and he was smiling at him and being all friendly towards him, while Altaïr? Altaïr didn't even _get_  an opportunity. He had tried, but Malik just pushed him away. Malik must have been a real fool to do that, though. All that pushing away and coyness only got Altaïr more attracted to Malik. Altaïr actually found Malik's bashfulness incredibly cute. What a coquet.

But it was Ezio. Ezio made him look like the bad guy, and now he was the black sheep. It's not as if Altaïr was pressuring the fool for nothing. Idiot still hadn't fucking apologized. Dammit. Why didn't anything go his way? Altaïr grunted in disapproval.

 _Whatever_.

He'd find a way to at least have a decent conversation with the boy.

Altaïr wouldn't give up without a fight.

Hell, he had never given up. Why should this be an exception?

"Altaïr," the teacher muttered. "And Desmond Miles. You two. Partners." Altaïr tried to look for whomever his partner was, this Desmond kid. He assumed that the guy who smiled at him and said, "I'm Desmond," was indeed his partner. Altaïr wanted to smile back and be friendly, but that was _not_  one of his specialties. He simply nodded at the kid and reverted his gaze back onto Malik.

Desmond seemed like a great kid and partner, but he wasn't Malik. You can't fucking compare a piece of rhinestone to a diamond. Yeah, sure, they both sparkle and shine but only one out of the two is more appealing and valuable than the other. Well, at least in Altaïr's eyes.

The cool water felt nice against his skin. While in his AP Biology class, Malik hadn't realized how sweaty his palms had been, and he hated that feeling. He decided that it would be to his benefit that he waste some of his limited 'between-class' time and just take a brief trip to the washroom so he could quickly wash his hands.

He twisted the knob and the cascade of water ended. There, all done. Now just to wipe his hand and get the fuck out of the bathroom. Although Malik attended an upper-class school, and its lavatories were splendid and well kempt, he knew that if  he dawdled too long his teacher would get angry and throw a fit. His physical education instructor was a pain.

Malik walked towards the hand towels, neatly stacked in the corner of the counter, next to the sink. He grabbed one and thoroughly wiped his hands and face. He heard the bathroom doors open, but paid no heed. He continued to wipe his hands.

Altaïr noticed Malik wiping his hands like a germaphobe, it was rather charming. Altaïr began to stalk towards Malik, making sure he wouldn't notice him. When he got close enough he wrapped two arms around his torso, causing the other boy to clumsily turn around. 

His expression was priceless.

His eyes were widened in shock, his mouth was parted in the shape of an 'O', and his entire face and ears were tinted red. For such a tan guy, Malik sure could blush a lot.

Malik attempted to push away, but Altaïr's grip tightened.

"Get your hands off me, fucking creep," Malik snarled. He was acting all cool, calm, and collected when deep down inside he was a mess.

Altaïr studied Malik.

Malik was extremely flustered, and seemed to be a tad bit uncomfortable. However, there was something which Altaïr couldn't comprehend. Malik wasn't very resistant. Yeah, of course he was there cussing Altaïr out, but Altaïr doubted that he really meant it. Altaïr had always been very good at figuring out people's true emotions. He knew when people were mad, or when they were sad, or when they were jealous. He could tell.

Malik stared into Altaïr's eyes. He had nice eyes. How come he had never noticed that before?

Altaïr suddenly heard the door open. He impulsively shoved Malik as far away from him as possible. That had caught Malik completely off guard, and all too quickly Malik stumbled back, tripping over himself and slamming into a hand dryer. Apparently Altaïr had shoved Malik with a little bit _too_  much force, as Malik passed out upon impact. His body slowly slid down and Altaïr noticed bruising beginning to blossom on Malik's forehead. Altaïr wanted to walk over and caress Malik's face, praying that the bruising would stop. Malik was much too handsome to have various bruises kissed all over his face. Altaïr thought it was a shame. He then noticed how Malik's nose was seeping a dark liquid. _Blood_. That blood was also painted on his forehead. Just how much damage had Altaïr inflicted, accidentally, upon Malik? Altaïr felt culpable and wanted to slam his head against the wall. _Tch_. As if that would end Malik's bleeding. Altaïr realised that he had been standing, pondering in his mind for far too long and strode over to Malik. Fuck school, Malik needed medical attention. Now. Altaïr couldn't just leave him there... not after what he had done.

Altaïr groaned and shook his head.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

He was so stupid. And foolish. And worthless. And creepy. And everything wrong with society. He just wanted to jump off a cliff. Now he'd never get the chance to reconcile with Malik. Not after this incident.

"Fuck my life," Altaïr darkly muttered to himself.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Altaïr heard someone mutter.

It was Leonardo. And Ezio. Oh Lord have mercy on his soul. Of all people, why Ezio? He'd never hear the end of him.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Ezio snarled, the concern and anger on his face obvious. Leonardo seemed horrified yet he looked at Altaïr sympathetically.

Altaïr felt the guilt, anger, and remorse within himself threatening to spill.

_Why did everything bad happen to him?_


	9. For He Too Had Disintegrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik receives a surprise visit from someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! After making you guys endure eight entire chapters for this! I thank you for your patience, although it is not as much as you'd hope. In time, my friend. In time...

Malik groaned. Where the fuck was he?

He looked around. He slowly realised that he was in his own room. He then remembered _why_ he was in his room.

 _Oh... fuck_.

That had _not_ just happened... and yet it did. Malik recalled how one moment he had been in Altaïr's embrace, and then the next thing he knew everything went black.

Malik's hand reached for his forehead. His head throbbed. He prodded at the fragile, darkened skin on his forehead. Malik hissed. It stung like a bitch.

He then remembered how he had woken up, with Leonardo looking at him all doe-eyed while those two imbeciles, Ezio and Altaïr, stood there arguing like the lot of idiots they were. Malik had shouted at them to kindly shut the fuck up, and Altaïr looked at him with the strangest expression. He looked remorseful, yet relieved. Malik actually felt slightly pitiful for the guy. Then he remembered that it was Altaïr who had roughly thrust him against the wall.

 _Oh_.

All three boys had helped Malik into his car, informing the office about how Malik had accidentally tripped whilst walking down the stairs (which Malik knew was the biggest load of bullshit. How the fuck could someone as attentive as him trip while walking down stairs?) as to save them rumours and gossip that may have ensued had they been honest. That was all he could recollect from the entire incident. Oh, other than the fact that Ezio and Altaïr hadn't shut the fuck up the entire time those two were together.

 _Fools_.

Malik sighed and reached for his pack of Dunhill cigarettes. He produced a lighter. Silently slipping his index and thumb fingers into the carton, he pulled out one thin, long cigarette. He quietly pushed it into his mouth and lit the tip with the lighter. He lazily inhaled. Then, he slowly produced thick, opaque vapour which emerged from his mouth and nose. He watched the abstruse smoke swirl around in his room, eventually vanishing into thin air as if it was a ghost. He remembered those stories of _djinn_ 's which were recited to him from his ancient grandparents. He remembered how they too had disappeared into thin air as if they were made of mist. They were like the morning fog. Here today, gone tomorrow. Just like everything he'd ever adored. _Jed_ had disappeared into thin air, _Jeda_ had disappeared into thin air, _Ummu_ had disappeared into thin air, his dear Kadar, _Akhi al-sagheer al-habib_ , had disappeared into thin air, and _Baba_? He may as well be dead for he, too, had disappeared into thin air. _Tch_. It was a wonder how Malik had still managed to retain the Arabic which he now seldom spoke.

"Put away those cigarettes," a voice broke his thoughts suddenly. Malik swore that he would cut the bastard who had just interrupted his thoughts. He scrutinised the entire room. 

How strange, it was empty. Maybe he was getting delirious. Was it all the alcohol and cigarettes he consumed on a daily basis? No, never. They would never betray him like that. He put all his love and trust into those two.

"Holy fuck, how often do you smoke? Don't tell me you do it often," the voice chimed. Malik was starting to get aggravated. Which fuckwad was messing with his head? He furiously scanned the room once again. Still no results. Malik huffed out to display his irritation. He heard laughter. It sounded like pure gold. Malik admittedly thought that it was one of the nicest sounds he had ever heard. It was pleasant.

"Can't see me, can you?" the voice teased.

"No," Malik finally muttered.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows of his room. Oh, right. It was two in the morning, of course Malik wouldn't be able to see _anything_ , let alone _anyone_. As the moonlight beaming from Malik's window shed onto the anonymous figure, the first thing Malik noticed was its aureate eyes. It was almost animal-like. It appeared rather feline, yet it reminded Malik of an eagle...?

Malik suddenly reached a moment of epiphany.

 _Oh_.

It was the asshat who had caused Malik to be in this wretched, piteous state.

Altaïr.

Malik felt the anger pumping through his veins. What was his problem? How long had the fucker been here? How in the hell had he even gained access to his abode? That creepy little shit.

Apparently Malik had articulated his thoughts, as Altaïr erupted in snickers.

" _I_ , along with Ezio and Leonardo," Altaïr basically sneered Ezio's name, "transported you to your house. That is how I know where you reside."

Malik groaned. Oh no. He'd have to move, wouldn't he?

"And there's a thing called windows which I used to get into your room."

Well. That explained the beams of moon illuminating Malik's room. And that explained why Malik's room was rather chilly. A bit too chilly for his liking.

"That's called trespassing, _Altaïr_ ," Malik hissed, emphasising Altaïr's name. "And I can get you arrested for that." Malik tried to sound threatening, but he wasn't feeling too great. Not after slamming his head, hard, against a solid object. He only had Altaïr to thank for that. Malik hastily took another puff of his cigarette and watched it float into the air, only to evanesce.

"I am only doing this for your well-being," Altaïr softly retorted. "And also to apologise. For yesterday's incident." Malik humphed at that. The audacity.

"No need to apologise," Malik harshly scoffed. Altaïr subtly walked over to Malik's bed. Malik was too irate to notice.

"As a matter of fact, I only have myself to blame," Malik ranted. "After all, I was the one who was actually too brain-dead to notice your dirty hands on me."

Altaïr steadily kept stalking over to Malik. Malik, however, continued on with his fuming.

"And then here you are. Creeping in my room like the fucking dolt which you are. I don't even know what's keeping me from calling the Goddamn cops on you. I swear, I am too fucking nice to you. Most people would—" Malik wasn't able to finish his sentence, as he found his lips plastered to Altaïr's. His eyes widened in surprise.

What... wait, what? What was this?

Altaïr's lips felt somewhat soft against Malik's delicate lips. Then, within seconds Altaïr's face was five feet away from Malik's face.

Malik kept quiet. He was completely befuddled. What was that?

Altaïr smirked. "Now I know how to keep you quiet."

"Shut the fuck up!" Malik roared. He reached for the closest object within his reach, which was a thick book he had been reading. He aimed for Altaïr.

Bulls eye.

It hit his target dead-on, right on the spot. The book had come in contact with Altaïr's head. Altaïr whined an, "Ow!" and tenderly rubbed his head.

"Get the fuck out of my room," bellowed Malik. Altaïr quickly raised both his hands in the air, as if in surrender. "Alright, alright, _habibi_." Altaïr walked towards Malik's open window. He then gazed at Malik longingly. It seemed as if Altaïr was debating with himself over something. Malik narrowed his eyes. Altaïr stayed by the window for the longest time, never keeping his eyes off Malik. It was like school all over again. Malik rolled his eyes and Altaïr proceeded to simper at him. He was clearly smitten. Malik pouted and Altaïr grinned. He then gave Malik one last glance and disappeared out through Malik's window.

Frankly, Malik was half expecting a shout or some sort of noise, since he thought that Altaïr would fall and break his bones by jumping out his window from such a height. However, all he received was the soothing chirping of the crickets outside and the steady sighing of the breeze.

Malik summoned all the strength contained within his body. _Damn_. That tiny, almost  insignificant fortuity had really left its mark. With a grunt, he pushed himself off his bed and hobbled towards the window. He analyzed the land exhibited from his window.

 _Nothing_.

Not one sign of Altaïr.

Malik sighed and shut the window dilatorily. He then walked back towards his bed, where he was greeted by his comforter and feathery pillows. He wearily exhaled a breath in bemusement. He thought of those gilded eyes.

Slumber soon embraced him like an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary**  
>  \- _Djinn_ = Genie(s)  
>  \- _Jed_ = Grandpa  
>  \- _Jeda_ = Grandma  
>  \- _Ummu_ = Mum  
>  \- _Akhi Al-Sagheer Al-Habib_ = My sweet little brother  
>  \- _Baba_ = Dad  
>  \- _Habibi_ = My Darling; My Dear; My Love; Babe


	10. Mitosis and Meiosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik and Leonardo have a lab to complete in their AP Biology class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha no OK I have taken it too far in this chapter. I've actually incorporated real-life AP Biology questions and phrases in here. For what reason, I don't even know. Gosh, I am such a nerd smh.  
> I actually did this lab a while back, some time in December...? I don't know, it was nice but I didn't even know what I was looking at under the microscope tbh. All I remember is this jumble of words including 'prophase', 'metaphase', 'anaphase', and 'telophase'. Whoa, I even managed to memorise them in the correct order! How astounding!
> 
> [This](http://i49.tinypic.com/2rq2dfc.jpg) is how I imagined their classroom to be like (or at least the back part of the class), except it'd be more lavish and stuff since they're attending an upper-class school and stuff.  
> I kind of regret writing this chapter, since technically it _was_ pointless and it shows how nerdy I am.

"Go sit next to the partner which you were assigned," the teacher commanded. The students complied. Malik happily made his way towards Leonardo's desk and plopped his materials onto the desk next to his partner. He sat down and grinned at Leonardo.

"Hey Leo," Malik said. Leonardo blushed and smiled back weakly. He seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

"You OK?" Malik asked. Leonardo's eyes widened briefly, but then he nodded.

Their teacher's voice suddenly boomed loudly. "As you know, you shall be doing your mitosis labs today. I'm sure that you all know how to use microscopes, eh? I am not going to waste my time explaining how or what. The only thing I ask of you is to not break anything. If you have any questions, and God forbid, feel free to inquire,"

The classroom either nodded their head in agreement or uttered a, "Yes," in unison.

"Good. You may begin. And remember, _do not break anything_."

The students scurried towards the large back-part of the class, where the microscopes were conveniently placed on various wide, solid, black tables. Sundry wooden stools surrounded the tables, providing a sitting place for students.

Their teacher had already explained the lab beforehand thoroughly, so everyone knew what to do and how to do it. It was rather simple, to be honest. The students even had sheets supplying them with instructions, in the unfortunate case, should they forget what to do. Then again, they were also supposed to sketch observations, write information, and record their data onto those sheets.

The students were basically expected to use a microscope to observe the different stages of mitosis, which were each captured in fragile glass slides. They then had to sketch each of the things they saw in the slides and finally label which slide was part of which step. It was ridiculously easy, as there were only six main stages involved in mitosis.

Malik and Leonardo chose a table close to the window. Not so coincidentally, Altaïr and Desmond chose the same exact table. Malik shot Altaïr a look, but the idiot didn't budge. He instead just grinned provocatively at Malik. Malik ignored him by setting up the microscope propped in front of him and Leonardo; they sat across from each other. Altaïr sat next to Malik, but there was a significant amount of space between them thanks to a cabinet built into the table. Malik had never been more thankful in his life.

"Are you feeling better? You know, after the incident... er, I mean the fall," Leonardo stuttered. Malik glanced at him for a moment before going back at working with the microscope. Leonardo suddenly looked guilty, as if he had said something wrong.

"Of course I am!" Malik snapped a little too harshly. He looked at Leonardo again, who had winced. "I apologise for speaking roughly, Leonardo. But I am feeling better. Thank you for your concern." 

Leonardo simply smiled at his reply and uttered, "It was my pleasure."

After Malik finished setting up the microscope, he told Leonardo that they should probably start the lab if they wanted to finish it. Leonardo agreed and swiftly grabbed the first glass slide, neatly placing it under the microscopes stage clips. He toyed a bit with the coarse adjustment knob, and then with the fine adjustment knob whilst looking through the microscopes ocular lens. He then gasped, grabbing his notebook and pencil. He began to sketch whilst murmuring how "spectacular" and "glorious" the sight was. Malik patiently agreed. Leo sure seemed to be enjoying himself, and Malik didn't want to be the one to take that away from him. It was rather amusing.

Altaïr clearly didn't like how Malik lazily gazed intently at a very chirpy Leonardo and would attempt to pester Malik every other second with some stupid excuse. Desmond would just watch attentively, obviously amused at how sharp Malik's tongue could be.

"I swear, why did you sit next to me? If I could, I'd move but Leonardo likes it here and I'm not going to make the poor boy suffer just because of one redundant imbecile," Malik whined, moving his stool as far away from Altaïr possible. Altaïr moved towards Malik's direction in response. Malik groaned.

"You know I'd just follow you. Besides, I like it here, too," Altaïr cooed, eying Malik.

Malik groaned again and slapped his forehead. He wanted to desk-slam so badly. "You have a fucking partner to think of! We're not doing this Goddamn lab for nothing. You can't make poor Desmond do all the work while you fuck around with me!" Malik grunted, trying to keep his cool as that comment only caused Altaïr's eyes to widen. Apparently Altaïr liked the idea of 'fucking around with Malik'. Malik shot an apologetic look at Desmond, as if to silently say ' _Sorry-You-Got-Paired-Up-With-This-Dumb-Ass_ '.

Desmond got the message and laughed. He wanted to tell Malik that he didn't know what to do in this stupid lab either, but he kept that to himself. His partner seemed pretty into that boy, after all, and probably wouldn't hesitate to torment Desmond if he got too close to him. That boy whom his partner, Altaïr, may or may not fancy. Malik. He kinda saw why Altaïr was so fond of him. He was the most opulent, well-known student in the entire school. He practically bathed in money. He was also a striking, rather attractive youth. No wonder all the girls chased after him. Him and Ezio alike were 'chick magnets', it was only appropriate that the lot were close friends as well. However, according to what Desmond had heard, Malik didn't really return the love offered to him from those girls, other than to sleep with them whilst under the influence, only to disappear in the morning. Oddly, most girls didn't mind at all. They had all said that it was "worth it." How many girls had that bronze God fucked, only to jilt them in the morning? Certainly more than all four limbs could count. Desmond sighed and reread the instructions for the lab again, hoping that something in his mind would click.

Leonardo, in the midst of all the ruckus, continued to sketch and identify the phases. Why had they not done this earlier? This was one of the coolest labs he had ever done in his life! Leonardo had to be honest with himself, this was one of his favourite classes. Not for the people, oh no. It wasn't that he minded Malik, he was a pretty nice partner. It was the fact that science itself was fascinating. He could just spend hours and hours and hours absorbing the wonders that only science could fulfil.

Leonardo took the one last look through the ocular lens.

Yep.

Definitely _Metaphase_.

It was just so obvious, because anyone with eyes could tell that it was Metaphase, right? It was evident due to the fact that all of the cells chromosomes were lined up in the centre. Leonardo let himself be charmed by the sight before informing his partner, Malik, that it was Metaphase which the microscope was conveying. Malik wearily smiled in response, grateful for such a wonderful partner. Malik felt a bit guilty for allowing Leonardo do all the work, while Malik himself just dilly-dallied, but Leonardo did not seem to mind one bit. He actually encouraged Malik to let him bear all the labour. Malik tried to help, as it was the least he could do, but it was quite difficult, especially when there was an idiotic cretin annoying him every other second.

Cough, cough _Altaïr_.

Malik leered at him. Altaïr giggled in response.

 _Fool_.

Malik continued to write notes on his, or rather Leonardo's, observations. He'd complete the sketches later, trying to duplicate them from Leonardo's sketchbook. At the moment, Leonardo looked quite solemn and very focused with his work. Malik didn't want to interrupt his train of thought, especially not when Leonardo was in the midst of sketching a cell undergoing mitosis.

Malik could not fathom how it was that Leonardo drew so flawless. The boy would sketch his subject in a manner so detailed, so flawless. He could easily put any other artist to shame with his skills. It was as if he was born with the talent, raw and obvious since he was but a wee chap.

Various students, including students who studied or wanted to major in anything related to the Arts, Science, and/or Engineering envied Leonardo not only because of his irresistible charms. Because, truthfully, Leonardo was an adorable fellow. He had large, electric blue eyes of the colour of the infinite blue sky, smooth, pale, creamy skin sprinkled with freckles which would flush a lovely pink colour when he was shy or embarrassed, a neat and well-kempt mane which was similar to that of the finest golden silk. His personality was just as sweet. Leonardo was shy around certain people, yet he could still babble on and on about almost anything. He was kind and friendly to everyone, and was never in a bad mood. On top of that, he was a genius and always found a solution to a problem. It would be very hard to hate Leonardo. As a matter of fact, _how_ could anyone hate such a cheery guy?

Yes, it was very easy to envy someone as flawless as Leonardo, but somebody would have to be as heartless as a block of wood to hate Leonardo.

Hell, even blocks of wood would like Leonardo.

Malik smiled to himself and continued with his work.

Maybe that was why Ezio acted so strange in front of Leonardo, and why Leonardo would turn pink whenever he was around Ezio? ...No, of course not. Maybe they were just acquaintances. It would be best not to meddle in such affairs.

Leonardo had seemingly noticed that he was being observed by his lab partner. He slightly turned pink and gave Malik a bashful smile. Malik realised why Leonardo had turned pink and quickly muttered an apology, keeping his eyes off of Leonardo to prevent further discomfort. Leonardo laughed softly.

Altaïr, once again, looked unamused.

After what had seemed a while, Malik and Leonardo finished the lab. They had successfully identified each stage of mitosis under the microscope, had taken the proper notes from their observation, and had sketches and data to back it up. Stapling the sheets of paper together, they handed their final work into the teacher. Their teacher gave them some bookwork to complete, as they had been the first to finish the lab.

"Pages 179-180, questions 1-15. Answers only, you are not required to write the question," their teacher had said.

Malik breathed a sigh of relief after hearing that he didn't have to write the question _and_ the answer. He hated it whenever teachers made him do that. He felt that it was a complete and utter waste of time. He nodded to his teacher and trotted towards a wooden cabinet which contained the classes textbooks. He grabbed one of the new, glossy textbooks which said 'AP Biology' on its cover. He then walked back towards his desk and pulled out a sheet of lined paper and a mechanical pencil. Flipping through the pages, he found the questions.

"Crossing over occurs during  
A. prophase of mitosis  
B. prophase I of meiosis  
C. prophase II of meiosis  
D. prophase I and II of meiosis  
E. prophase of mitosis and prophase I of meiosis"

The question seemed to dare him to answer without looking through the pages. Malik accepted its challenge. At first, he was a bit confused. He then slowly realised that the answer was B., only because chromosomes pair in tetrads during prophase I. He smirked, as he was the obvious victor. He'd just go double-check with Leonardo just incase. That is, after he finished all the questions. 

The next question asked:

"In typical cell divisions by mitosis and meiosis, all of the following contribute to genetic variation EXCEPT:  
A. anaphase of mitosis  
B. anaphase of meiosis I  
C. fertilization  
D. crossing over  
E. random union of egg and sperm"

Malik stayed still for a moment. He then gave up and skimmed through the passages. Eventually he found out that the correct answer was A., due to the fact that no events during normal mitosis would create genetic differences between the two daughter cells; after all, they are clones, thus making them genetically identical.

Malik proceeded to tackle the rest of the 15 questions with ease. By the time he was finished the entire class had completed their lab, and there was only 5 minutes left of class. Malik quickly made his way towards Leonardo and double-checked his answers. They were all correct. He then thanked Leonardo, turned in the paper, and grabbed his backpack. He zipped it shut, and right then the bell rung, signaling the transition from class to class.


	11. Schijt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Malik finds out about Edward Kenway's party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably wondering why I chose Dutch instead of, say, Spanish or Italian or German. Well, I think it's because the Dutch language deserves some spotlight, too! It receives little attention, even in places such as South Africa, Indonesia, etc. It's not fair! *sobs*  
> OK lol no. Sorry about that, guise. I probably look like a whiny idiot in which I am.  
> So Malik gets a scar! Well, he has a scar. Not on his mouth, though. Somewhere else... eh I'm sure you guys will know. p: Hah but yeah that's pretty much it. (x I hope I didn't overdo it. o;  
> Oh yeah, the title of this chapter ( _Schijt_ ) means something in Dutch... er it's a profane word. (x OK fine it means 'Shit'. xD  
> Oh and before I forget, [this](http://www.autohotest.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/2014-Lotus-Esprit-Side.jpg) is how one of Malik's cars look like. Apparently it's the _Lotus Esprit 2014_ but it looks more like the 2013 version to me.

Malik started to walk towards his next class.

"Hey, Mal!" a jocund voice echoed. Malik turned around to face the voice's owner.

"Hey, Clay. Haven't seen you in a while," Malik said. It was true. That kid was almost _always_ absent. _Why_ he was absent was just another one of God's infinite mysteries. Maybe it was his, as previously mentioned, shitty immune system.

"Yeah. So what did I miss?" Clay asked eagerly. He walked alongside Malik since they both had their next class together.

"Nothing much," Malik lied. Truth be told, he had missed quite a lot but it probably wouldn't be deemed very significant by Clay.

Clay, however, was clever enough to sense a fib. "You lie!"

"Ugh, c'mon Clay. There's nothing new that you should know of, other than the fact that you'll have a lot of homework and catching up to do. Besides, you probably wouldn't even care," Malik muttered.

Clay scoffed playfully. "Tch, OK, fine!" He jocularly shoved Malik. Malik nearly tripped, and probably would have shanked Clay had that happened.

"So, Malik," Clay started. Malik looked at him out of the corner of his eye, beckoning him to carry on.

Continue he did. "I heard that there's a party this weekend. One of my close friends, Edward, is throwing it." There was a slight pause. "You gonna go?"

Party? This weekend? Of course he'd go.

"Duh," Malik laughed. "Obviously."

Clay simply chuckled. "Alright. Albeit he is a bit on the wild side. He's a party animal, _so_ unlike his little brother."

"Haytham's his name, right?"

"I think so."

"Yep, it's Haytham."

"Ah, the Kenway's. They should have befriended Shaun by now. The trio are Brits, after all."

" _Tch_. Just because they have a similar heritage doesn't mean that they'll be the best of pals. I mean, look at how great I get along with Altaïr."

"Wait. What? You guys seem to get along good."

"Hahahahahahahahaha no."

"Um, _yes_."

"Clay, you know I can't stand that idiot."

"Huh?"

"Oh. Never mind, then you probably don't know."

"Know what?"

"That I hate him."

"Hate who?"

"Altaïr."

"What?"

"Kaczmarek, I will push you off a cliff and I won't even be sorry. I swear to God."

"I'm kidding, bro."

"I really hope so."

"Me too."

Malik sat inside his language class which he chose as an elective. He had chosen to take Dutch. Fortunately for him, no Altaïr for him to endure either. But unfortunately for him, he was bored as fuck.

" _Goedemiddag, klasje_ ," his teacher had said. Malik found it annoying how _all_ the language teachers in his school refused to speak English whilst teaching. Apparently it was supposed to 'help students understand the language better, and to help them cope in learning the language.' Malik was happy that he could at least reply in English, but what was the point of listening to somebody speak Dutch, not understand a word they said, and then respond in English?

" _Vandaag zullen wij gewoon één paar nieuwe woorden leeren_ ," the instructor continued. His peers automatically pulled out their notebooks and pencils. They understood what the teacher said? Malik sighed inwardly and mimicked his classmates.

" _En dan gaan wij met onszelf, individueel, lezen_."

" _Ja, mevrouw_."

" _Goed. Laten wij met het les beginnen_."

Malik looked around. The students looked prepared to write things, judging by the way they gripped their pencils and pens. Malik imitated their posture, too.

" _Bezitten_ ," the teacher wrote on the board. Then, she briefly said in English, " _Bezitten_ is ownership, as in owning something. Like 'I own this pencil', which in Dutch would be ' _Ik bezit dit potlood_ '."

The teacher then proceeded to add

" _Ik bezit_ = I own  
 _Jij bezit_ = You own  
 _Hij bezit_ = He owns  
 _Ze bezit_ = She owns  
 _Zij bezit_ = She/ It owns  
 _U bezit_ = You own (respectful)  
 _Wij bezitten_ = We own  
 _We bezitten_ = We own  
 _Zij bezitten_ = They own  
 _Ze bezitten_ = They own"

onto the board. She then beckoned for the class to copy the notes. Malik understood her sign and proceeded to copy the notes.

After what had felt like a year, class was finally dismissed. Malik was eager to go home and have a cigarette. He jolted towards his car, a Lotus Esprit 2014. _Baba_ got it for him as a gift. Malik hadn't even asked for it, but he'd put it to good use, just like all the other cars his father bought (and still continues to buy) for him.

Malik reached for the handle of his car when he heard a voice whisper, "Malik."

Malik turned around in surprise.

 _Oh_.

Of course.

It _would_ be Altaïr.

It would be Altaïr who was fiercely hugging Malik, as if he owned the boy.

"What. Do. You. Want," Malik said between grit teeth. He felt compelled to shove Altaïr off of him, but something inside of him stopped him from doing just that. Something which he'd rather just not speak of.

"Nothing," Altaïr said innocently. "Just a hug." Altaïr hugged Malik tighter. Malik felt like his anger and annoyance would just burst the harder Altaïr hugged him.

"Then why don't you go fuck off and hug someone else?" Malik growled.

"Because I only want to hug _you_." Altaïr whined.

If Malik could, he would have face-palmed himself and then punched Altaïr right in the face. But he couldn't, and more specifically, he didn't want to. He wasn't sure _why_. After what had felt like infinity, Malik was a bit grateful that Altaïr finally let go, yet another part of him wanted to continue hugging the guy.

"Good. Now _off you fuck_ ," Malik snarled.

Altaïr smiled back at him. "You're blushing, Mal."

"Don't call me Mal!"

"Alright, Malik, Mal, same shit. You're still blushing, though."

"I am not blushing! Why would I be blushing?"

"Because you hugged me."

"So?"

"I could be saying the same thing to you."

"Well I don't give a fuck."

"That's cool, because _I do_."

"Ugh, I fucking hate you, you know that?"

"I love you too."

"Fuck off."

"Sure thing!"

Malik scoffed at that and finally managed to open the door of his car. He slid inside and closed the door. He took a moment to breathe in and out so he could calm down. He didn't plan on driving and then crashing into a tree due to his recklessness experienced from anger. That had happened once while he was joyriding with a group of friends, who had all made it out unhurt (except Malik since _he_ , of all people, had the best of luck), yet he still make sure that car accidents would happen never again. He looked down at his left arm. A long, jagged scar started from his wrist, traveling upwards, ending little above his elbow. It was fading away into his mocha skin, yet it was still slightly visible if one looked close enough. Malik didn't care that he had the scar. It was fading away, and it was subtle enough for Malik to manage. He lightly traced the scar with his index finger. It tingled for a moment until Malik stopped.

He huffed out a breath and eventually started his car.

Now, about that party...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Glossary (Dutch)**  
>  \- _Goedemiddag, klasje_ = Good afternoon, class (affectionate)  
>  \- _Vandaag zullen wij gewoon één paar nieuwe woorden leeren_ = Today we'll just learn a new pair of words  
>  \- _En dan gaan wij met onszelf, individueel, lezen_ = And then we'll read with ourselves, individually  
>  \- _Ja, mevrouw_ = Yes, ma'am  
>  \- _Goed. Laten wij met het les beginnen_ = Good. Let's begin with the lesson  
>  \- _Bezitten_ = Possess(ing)  
>  \- _Ik bezit dit potlood_ = I own this pencil  
>  \- _Ik bezit_ = I own  
>  \- _Jij bezit_ = You own  
>  \- _Hij bezit_ = He owns  
>  \- _Ze bezit_ = She owns  
>  \- _Zij bezit_ = She/ It owns  
>  \- _U bezit_ = You own (respectful)  
>  \- _Wij bezitten_ = We own  
>  \- _We bezitten_ = We own  
>  \- _Zij bezitten_ = They own  
>  \- _Ze bezitten_ = They own
> 
>  **Glossary (Arabic)**  
>  \- _Baba_ = Dad


	12. 陰陽

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joshing around at Edward's party, Malik finds someone in his car... **again**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the first part of this chapter is a huuuuuuuge fail smh. p: My apologies...  
>  ~~#INeedJesus~~  
>  But I suppose the second part of this chapter isn't as odd or mal as the first part ahah.  
> I look forward to writing the next chapter, though. Drama tiems!!1!  
> The title of this chapter (陰陽) is incorporated several times in this chapter (Cheers if you find them :D) and it means ' _Yin and Yang_ ' in Chinese (but I have a feeling it's Mandarin, not Chinese; if I am not mistaken, there's no such thing as 'Chinese' being a language... there's Mandarin, Cantonese, Wu, Min, and various other dialects and languages. Theoretically, 'Chinese' is a term referring to the language[s] and dialect[s] spoken in China. Please do not hesitate to correct me if I am wrong), and according to Google Translate, also in Japanese. I don't know whether I should trust Google Translate at this point...  
> ✓ #GoogleTranslateNeedsJesus ✓

Malik inhaled. The smooth, bold taste of Davidoff tantalised his senses. His head buzzed slightly from the liquor he had previously taken in. How much bottles was that? Probably more than half a dozen.

There he was, sprawled out on his back, gazing at the stars.

They twinkled like diamonds.

 _Diamonds in the fucking sky_.

Malik breathed out in disgust and watched as a large cloud of grey formed.

Edward's party was rather cliché; not that it was bad, but at the same time it wasn't great either. Most people would think otherwise, but the only thing that Malik looked forward to in parties was the liquor and cigarettes. Nothing else mattered. Not even those ridiculous girls, who were dressed in such skimpy outfits strutting around like Goddamn whores.

Malik realised that he was holding his breath, and he slowly exhaled. He was certain that he was 5000% done. He had not one ounce of faith left for humanity. What the fuck was the world coming to? Malik realised the irony and hypocrisy of his words; he himself was an avid smoker and drinker. Not that he wanted to (at least initially), but it comforted him. Somehow.

"Malik! M'boy!" a vociferous voice called out. Malik sat up and faced the impostor. It was the party thrower: Edward.

Malik waved lazily at him. "Hey."

"Why aren'cha inside? Don't be so secluded with ya lonesome self outear. C'mere 'n join me inside," Edward slurred. The guy was obviously drunk as fuck, it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

"I like it out here," Malik murmured.

Edward pouted in response. "'N what's the point o' comin' if ya just gonna sit with y'self?"

Malik glared, yet Edward made an excellent point. "Why do you want me inside?"

"Beer pong," Edward mumbled, extending the 'e' in beer.

Malik sighed for what seemed the umpteenth time that evening. "Fine," he uttered.

Edward's face lit up and he staggered closer to Malik. "Swell!" he exclaimed. He pulled Malik in a crushing bear hug. Malik wanted to push the drunken mess off him, yet he did not want to end up getting in a fight with the cocky blond as he got truculent easily. Malik did not understand how Edward and Haytham were siblings. One was blond, the other was brunette. One was uproarious whilst the other was serene. One was constantly drunk, while the other was sober (well, most of the time). One was cocky, while the other was more humble. One frequently jested around, while the other was rather serious. Malik could go on forever with their vast indifference's.

Eventually Edward pulled away and he tottered inside his house. Malik listened to the booming music, the billions (or so it seemed) of people dancing and socialising, and other noises in between.

Where was the beer?

Malik's head was killing him. Why did this even surprise him? He lifted himself off the floor. He didn't bother looking around anymore, as he already knew that unconscious bodies, fragments of glass from broken beer bottles, and utter destruction would be only thing he'd see.

Malik felt utterly miserable. Why did he keep doing this? He just couldn't compel himself to stop. He groaned, probably a bit too loudly.

"You alright," a bored voice muttered more than asked. Malik looked up and met the gaze of a young brunette, obviously his age. Dark blue eyes slightly coated with concern scrutinized him intently. The lad's gaze did not match the tone of his voice.

"Hey, boy. Are. You. All. Right?" the boy asked again when he received no answer, still sounding just as bored as before with his thick British accent.

"Ugh. Yeah, I guess. Thanks," Malik replied. He knew this stranger.

"My pleasure," the stranger muttered.

"You must be Haytham, right?" Malik suddenly queried.

The stranger looked at Malik with an odd expression. He seemed appalled. Had Malik said something wrong? The stranger sighed and slowly shook his head. "No, I am the anti-Christ." The widening of Malik's eyes compelled him to quickly add, "Of course I am none other than Haytham Kenway, thank you very much."

Malik exhaled. He had almost believed him there. Then again, he was slightly hungover.

"Cool," Malik said. "I'm Malik."

Haytham's eyes opened a bit in surprise. "Malik?"

Malik mhm'ed in approval.

"As in Al-Sayf?"

Malik mhm'ed again.

"Malik Al-Sayf? The heir of a company worth billions?"

"Yep. None other than yours truly, Malik Al-Sayf."

Haytham's face looked shocked for a split second, but then he went back to looking unamused and bored. "My apologies for my brother."

"No problem. It was a nice party by the way."

Haytham laughed. "Well, about the party... it's been a pleasure making your acquaintance, but I must clean up after my brother, as the fool is in no condition to do anything but sleep."

Malik smiled. "Sure, no problem."

" _Tch_. I should just leave everything be. Wait till mum comes home. Edward is fucked," Haytham silently scoffed to himself.

Malik bid Haytham fair well, and Haytham suddenly said, "Oh, don't forget to wear a shirt. Don't want to be walking around all bare-chested like that."

Malik realised that his shirt was gone. Although this was nothing new, Malik still couldn't resist turning the colour of a red ruby. Haytham didn't seem to notice and murmured a, "Cheers," to Malik.

Malik walked outside and found his car. When he opened the door he had half expected Ezio to be in there, banging some girl senseless. But, alas, it was empty, much to Malik's relief. That awkward encounter had mentally scarred Malik. He laughed to himself. Only Ezio. He would. But the situation was rather woeful to Malik. Ezio treated girls like toy dolls. He'd find one (almost _always_ with ease), use them, and toss them aside. Then repeat the entire process again. It was literally an infinite process for Ezio.

Malik sat in the drivers seat.

"Hey," a cool voice murmured, extending the 'e' in hey.

Malik jerked reflexively, hitting his head against his cars roof. Fucking tinted windows, thanks to them he didn't even know that there was a stranger in his car, up until they greeted him. Malik listened to the voice laugh pleasurably, obviously delighted to see Malik in pain.

"You're so cute," the voice sighed. "And klutzy."

Malik growled and turned to meet the source of the voice. He met the piercing gaze of two golden eyes.

Altaïr.

Of course, it _would_ be that fucker.

This was most definitely nothing new. He had been pestering Malik ever since he got involved in Ezio's stupid bullshit. That idiot hadn't even apologised, and it'd only been a couple of days since the event. Hell, why had he even said yes?

"Get the fuck out," Malik snarled.

"Wow, you must be really happy to see me," Altaïr sarcastically exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm so excited to see you that I don't want you in my sight any longer," Malik grumbled. 

Altaïr laughed softly again. "Aw, Malik, I am honestly _touched_."

"I'm most glad," Malik muttered.

Altaïr fidgeted silently. Malik took advantage of his uneasiness to better observe that annoying prick by the name of Altaïr sitting in his car.

Altaïr's usually keen eyes were now dreamy and relaxed. He couldn't keep his gaze still, and kept looking around like a curious child. A lazy smile played on his lips. He looked as if he was swallowed by ecstasy.

"Are you stoned?" Malik suspiciously questioned.

Altaïr laughed at his assumption. "No!"

"Well, then why the hell do you look so lost?" Malik stated. It was true, Altaïr looked rather inebriated. Malik hadn't seen Altaïr at the party... fortunately for him. So then what was the problem?

"You," Altaïr murmured, his eyes gleaming slightly.

Malik realised that he had articulated his thoughts. He shivered at that. Why had that suddenly caused him to shudder?

"You cold?" Altaïr asked, eyes slightly open.

Malik nodded, grateful for an excuse. But at the same time, of course he would be cold, he had lost his shirt, while Altaïr was cocooning there in his Goddamn hoodie. If the fool was so infatuated with Malik, then he'd surely lend him that fucking hoodie. Malik quivered again to emphasise his situation.

Altaïr understood, and proceeded to tug at his hoodie. Malik continued with his shivering. When Altaïr was halfway finished with removing his hoodie he froze and stated, "You can just turn the heater on," and wore his hoodie again.

Malik trembled, and not from the cold. He glared at Altaïr. Altaïr stared back at him with the strangest expression. He smirked, and smugly muttered, "You mad bro?" Malik's eyes abruptly fired up, his coal eyes suddenly ablaze. If Altaïr was a stack of hay he'd be burning.

"Just... just fucking go," Malik groaned, huffing out in sheer vexation.

Altaïr gazed at Malik yearningly, then he nodded. "I'll leave, but only on a couple conditions."

Malik ' _Ugh_ 'ed in irritation. "What," he growled.

Altaïr's eyes shimmered again, clearly entertained. "Well, first you have to promise to stop doing _this_ ," Altaïr waved his arms at Malik to emphasise his point, "to yourself."

Malik scoffed. Altaïr continued, "Secondly, try not to drink or smoke to the point where you're actually causing _harm_ to yourself."

Malik tried to put on the most shocked expression he could muster, but that didn't stop Altaïr. "But most importantly," Altaïr whispered, his voice laced with concern, " _Stop hurting yourself_."

Malik squinted at Altaïr. "And how exactly am I harming myself?" he snarled. "Please do enlighten me with your wisdom."

Altaïr sighed. "You're not hurting yourself physically. But all this partying and drinking and smoking and joyriding," Altaïr blinked, then continued, "It's not helping. You're only wounding yourself on the inside. You're already broken enough, no need to further damage yourself."

Malik gaped. This was getting ridiculous. How did he even _know_? He made a point there, but then again, what did _he_ know?

"Just stop being so reckless. It will be the end of you," Altaïr stated.

Malik had enough. "What the hell are you preaching me for? Fuck, you're such a hypocrite, telling me that I'm fucking reckless when you're more than just that. If I'm reckless then I don't even know what you are, nor do I _want_ to know. So before sermonising me with your idiotic advice, go find a mirror and just take a good look at yourself."

Altaïr sighed again. "But there is a difference between you and I. I could start with how, economically, you're much better off than I am. Physically, I think that you're much more attractive than I am." Malik blushed at the compliment. Malik was already red with anger, but Altaïr caught him flushing. Altaïr carried on with his debate, his voice softening, "We're in no way alike. How can you compare two things which aren't alike in any way?"

Malik pursed his lip at that.

 _Fuck_.

That was quite a point. A touché, on Malik's part.

"Well, you still act like a crazy bastard. We both do. There's your fucking similarity," Malik argued. He was _not_ going down without a fight, albeit he was tired as fuck.

Altaïr scoffed. "Yeah, I do act like a crazy bastard, I'll give you that. _But_ , do I go around smoking and drinking as if there's no tomorrow? Do I go joyriding? Do I get hungover _every single time_ at parties?"

Malik stayed still. He already knew who the victor of this dispute was. He eyed his adversary without a drop of gusto.

 _That clever bastard_.

"Please do answer me, _Your Highness_ ," Altaïr sneered, purposely raising the pitch of his voice slightly.

Who knew that the bastard could be so cunning?

Malik had no other argument to make, so he whined, "But still."

Altaïr laughed. "Well, I just proved my point. Case closed."

If Malik had an ounce of energy within himself, he would have continued with his argument. But he was tired and worn out, thus giving him little interest in the matter. He did, however, find another thing to argue about. "You think that your stupid chastising is going to stop me? Please do inform me of how you're going to enforce your rules."

Altaïr just smiled and winked. "Trust me, I will."

Malik found his cheeks heating up again. 

Altaïr chuckled like a fool in response. "No need to get the wrong ideas."

At this point, Malik's cheeks were burning. He had half-expected them to combust into a troupe of dancing flames. He eyed Altaïr warily.

"You're a whore," Malik spat out, stuttering slightly.

"Then what are you?" Altaïr slyly retorted.

 _That sneaky bastard_.

"Just leave," Malik growled.

Altaïr smirked. "Don't worry, I will. I just need something."

"What," Malik snarled.

Altaïr extended his arm and gently grabbed Malik's hair. Before Malik even had a chance to respond he felt a warm pair of lips plant themselves on his cheek. Half a second later they were gone and Altaïr swiftly opened the door.

"OkSeeYouLaterBye," Altaïr said in one breath before promptly closing the door.

At least Altaïr was smart enough to leave quickly, else he'd have to face ' _The Wrath of Malik_ '. Malik's cheeks flushed for what seemed the billionth time. He gingerly touched the caressed cheek before snapping himself out of that odd trance. What the fuck was he thinking? He'd have to wrangle Altaïr the next time he saw that idiot.

And he was _not_ heeding that fool's advice. It was _his_ life, he could and would do whatever he pleased. What was it to Altaïr, anyways? They barely even knew each other, the fuck did it matter to him? Malik hated it whenever he was being dictated by someone. Nobody was to order him around like some Goddamn maid. He did what he wanted, however he liked it. It was a free country anyways, wasn't it?

The audacity of some idiots.

Malik started his car, turned the heater on, and started his drive home so he could rest up and relax.


	13. Nomini Tuo da Gloriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik receives a surprise visit from someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my username from Kenw4y to → Modernise.  
> OK this chapter is pretty weird, but it'll get even more intricate in the following chapters. I have a lot planned out for this fic, frankly. Seriously, I kid you guise not. I'm more of an improv writer.  
> Because you'll be reading a lot about Malik's house & estate, I put it upon myself to create visuals for it (yeah I'm a very visual person ahah). So [this is the exterior of Malik's house](http://www.fileden.com/files/2012/7/22/3328794/Exterior.jpg), [this is the interior of Malik's house](http://www.fileden.com/files/2012/7/22/3328794/Room%28s%29.jpg), and [this is the garden](http://static.tumblr.com/8pcxx7s/W1Pmkhclx/garden.jpg). Yeah, they're rather large images. But hey, Malik is supposed to be wealthy!

Malik stepped out of his car. While most people would be singing, "Ah, home sweet home," it was _au contraire_ in Malik's case. Then again, Malik didn't fall under the category of 'most people'. Malik exhaled and strode towards the building. Since he lived on an estate, there was a separate area for cars (aka garage) and there was the house, or rather mansion, itself. There was plenty of space between those two, which dutifully served as a vast garden. Various hedges, trees, and plants dotted the garden. When Malik was younger he used to play hide and seek with his baby brother in the exact same garden. Although that was a past time, Malik still did feel lost and alone in the garden; he considered the garden a maze as a child, and he still did albeit the age difference.

Malik inhaled the delightful smells that the garden excreted. Even though he despised his home, he still appreciated his garden. Diverse amounts of roses, pears, apples, peaches, tulips, and jasmines tantalised his senses. For him, it was easy to get lost in the garden.

After what seemed like a year, Malik made his way towards the front door. The light shining through the glass of his house stung his eyes as they were quite bright. With his eyes squinting Malik managed to enter the pass-code, which was basically just a series of numbers, thus unlocking the door to his abode.

Malik sighed and stepped inside.

 _Stupid house_.

Malik trudged towards the kitchen area. Once he was there he opened the cabinets and grabbed a teapot and a mug. He filled the teapot with water and heated it up. He then made his way to another one of the cabinets and grabbed a wooden box. Firmly placing his hand on the lid, he slid it off, thus revealing various flavours of tea. Malik chose his favourite: Jasmine. Grabbing the tea packet, he closed the lid and placed the petite wooden box back in its cabinet. By then, the water was already warmed up. He grabbed the teapot, and poured its warm water into his mug. He then proceeded to rip the Jasmine tea packet open, removing its contents and dipping it in his mug. He watched as the dull colour burst from the tea packet. The colours swirled and danced about inside the mug. The glorious aroma of Jasmine tea soon got to Malik and he began to drink without hesitation.

His tongue burned, but he didn't care.

Jasmine tea had always been a favourite, _his favourite_ , ever since he was a child. _Ummu_ used to make them frequently for him when she was still alive.

Malik continued sipping and daydreaming. At this point his tongue was aching from all the abuse, but that didn't stop him. Eventually the mug was empty and Malik helped himself to another serving. By then his mouth was numb and the water had cooled down a bit. Malik sighed in satisfaction.

" _Jameelun an araaka_ , _Ibni_ ," a voice boomed.

Malik immediately recognised it and groaned inwardly. No need for the intruder to hear any signs of displeasure. " _Ab_ ," Malik murmured.

" _Na'am_ ," the figure replied. They proceeded to clear their throat, then continuing on, "So, how have things been faring for you, _azizi_?"

Malik felt like scoffing right then and there, yet he kept it to himself and simply muttered, "Fine, father."

Malik's father shifted a little bit. The two hadn't seen each other in months, as the man was barely home anyways. " _Jayed_."

Malik gained interest at the floor, and he spent the next couple of minutes observing it. Perfectly polished marble tiles, cleaner than anything. The glassy surface slightly reflected Malik's figure. His father seemed consumed by the silence, and possibly guilt, as well.

"Well, I am going to go take a shower, freshen up, and relax," Malik's father finally said. He started moving towards the stairs. " _Araka fi ma ba'd_ , Mal."

Malik grunted a goodbye in response. He watched the figure of his father ascend up the stairs. After he was completely gone, Malik began to scurry towards his fathers luggage. That man always brought interesting things. The last time Malik had found a couple of miniscule knives, which were small enough to be held with one hand. Malik still had those knives somewhere in his room. They were really cool. Those thoughts had encouraged Malik to race up the stairs, stealthily just in case his father wasn't in the shower. He walked through the various halls and rooms, eventually finding himself outside his fathers seldom-used room. He peered inside the room and, to his relief, found that it was empty. 

Malik entered. 

He walked over to the lonesome luggage sitting on his fathers bed. There was some strange-looking symbol on the luggage which Malik didn't recognise. Then again, that symbol was always on his fathers luggage; it was one of the earliest things he had remembered. That symbol had always been a part of his life, somehow. Maybe it was the logo of a designer company which Malik himself wasn't aware of? Malik dismissed the thought and began to wonder why his father brought such a measly amount of baggage on his trips. Only one bag. One tiny bag. How was that enough to provide clothes for more than a couple of months? Malik figured that the world was filled with an infinite amount of mysteries.

He extended his arm so that it grasped the zipper of the luggage. He slowly opened it, listening to the _zip_ that the action made. He peeped at the contents.

It was the usual: button-up shirts, slacks, ties, undergarments, socks, one or two belts, random pieces of parchment, and a golden ball. Completely part of the norm.

Malik began to walk away until he realised something.

Wait.

A golden ball?

 _That_ was something he didn't see everyday. Malik scurried back to the luggage and grabbed the orb. It felt rather smooth in his hands. He felt some sort of warmth radiating off of it, yet when he grabbed it the object felt more like a snowball. How could something emit warmth and simultaneously be cool to touch? Malik studied the orb. Etched on its surface were intricately designed patterns. Malik traced them with his finger. It felt nice.

"Malik," an irate voice boomed. "What are you doing _in my room_ with _my stuff_?"

 _Shit_.

Baba caught him snooping. Malik knew what would happen if his father was angry. If one said that Malik's temper was terrible, they should wait till they met his father. Like father, like son. His eyes screamed irritation, his teeth were clasped together so hard it looked as if his jaw might break, his hands were clenching and unclenching with impatience. The man inhaled and exhaled deeply. Malik had never seen his father this angry. What was the significance of this silly orb?

"Do you even know what you are doing?" his father screamed. "You are in so much more trouble than you could ever imagine, you spoiled brat."

Suddenly, Malik gasped. It felt as if all his bones were literally replaced with ice. The room suddenly became cold and flashed with gold and white beams of light. Malik shut his eyes.

No less than a second later, Malik found himself on his bed.

Wait a minute, _what the actual fuck_?

Wasn't he just in his fathers room? Maybe Altaïr's words hadn't been filled with merit after all, maybe all the cigarettes and alcohol were getting to his head. Malik realised that there was an odd pooling of heat gathering on his chest. He looked down.

Oh. OK?

Maybe this was just some weird dream. Or maybe it was a dream within a dream.

 _Dreamception_.

A dreamception. Yeah, maybe that was just it. Just some good, old-fashioned dreamception, right? Because clearly anything else would be surreal.

Malik grabbed the orb laying on his chest. It felt real... but maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Malik sat up; it looked like it might have been nine in the evening. Malik checked the time on his iPhone. Yep, just as he had suspected. Half past ten in the eventide.

Malik got off his bed and slipped the golden orb underneath clothes in a drawer in his room. He then trudged out his room and made his way towards the stairs. He realised how groggy he felt when he nearly tripped and fell down the stairs. Maybe some Jasmine tea would help. He got the supplies and prepared his tea.

By the time he was finished his father made his way into the kitchen.

"Malik?"

Malik glared daggers at the man. What the fuck was he acting all innocent for when less than a couple of hours ago he acted as if he was going to rip Malik's balls off?

"Why so hostile, _azizi_?" Malik's father asked.

"You know why," Malik growled.

"No I do not," The older man murmured.

"Don't you remember?" Malik sighed, obviously aggravated.

"Malik, I haven't spoken to you this entire day since you were last drinking Jasmine tea here," Malik's father confessed, probably guilty about the fact that he hadn't spent enough time with his offspring.

"What? No. I was just in your room," Malik said. His father gave him a confused look, compelling Malik to continue. "And then you got angry at me."

"Malik, I am honestly concerned for your health. You were _not_ in my room, and I was _never_ angry at you. Like I said before, the only time we interacted today was when you were drinking your Jasmine tea," Malik's father explained. Malik gave him a look. He then dismissed the thought.

" _Aasef_ , _baba_ ," Malik muttered. Yeah, that was probably a dream. And maybe this was a dream too. Or maybe this was real life and he had just been hallucinating about the golden orb. The possibilities seemed endless.

" _Laa moshkelah_ , _ibni_ ," Malik's father replied. Throughout the entire conversation he had seemed gravely distressed, briefly pausing and exhaling deeply. Malik had yet to know the cause. But as if his queries had been answered by some greater force from above, Malik's father meekly asked, "Say, Malik, have you seen a golden orb of some sort?"

Malik's eyes widened for a split second. What the fuck type of weird dream was _this_? He then managed to look calm, and cooly replied, " _Laa_ , _baba_."

That response only worsened the older man's condition. He paced back and forth before saying, "Well, I will be leaving today," Malik scoffed at that. Nothing new. "Specifically, I will be leaving in one hour."

"Well, then I bid you farewell," Malik sneered. " _Baba_ ," he spat out the word, diction dripping with disdain.

His father sighed, then muttered, "I as well. _Ibni_."

Malik nodded his head. That cued for his father to leave. The man walked back up the stairs. Malik, meanwhile, absorbed his tea within a matter of seconds. He had no idea why his father was so rushed. He owned various private jets, and could leave whenever he pleased. What the fuck was he so worried over? Was it that stupid orb?

Malik would never give his father that... thing. First off, it was visually appealing. Moreover, his father was a shitty parent. Malik felt it would be appropriate to keep that stupid object from him. Besides, Malik also felt a strange fascination with that thing.

Malik heard something shatter in a distance, accompanied by a long string of cuss words bellowed in Arabic. Just another reason not to give the man the orb.

Several minutes later Malik's father stomped down the stairs, suitcase in hand. That peculiar symbol was still on it.

" _Yajebu an athhaba al aan_ ," he uttered before scurrying towards the door, practically flying out the door. Malik didn't even have the chance to properly greet him. _Maybe_ if he had given Malik a chance, he could have been reunited with that stupid orb of his. _Maybe_ if he had been a better parent, they wouldn't even be in this ridiculous situation. An _Uhibbok_ , even a proper farewell would be much appreciated.

" _Ma'a salama_ ," Malik murmured to no one in particular. He would have said it to his father, but the man was long gone. He always had been.

" _Ghareeb_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Arabic Glossary**  
>  \- _Ummu_ = Mum  
>  \- _Jameelun an araaka_ = It's nice to see you  
>  \- _Ibni_ = My boy/ my son  
>  \- _Ab_ = Father  
>  \- _Na'am_ = Yes  
>  \- _Azizi_ = Dear  
>  \- _Jayed_ = Good  
>  \- _Araka fi ma ba'd_ = See you later  
>  \- _Baba_ = Dad  
>  \- _Aasef_ = I'm sorry  
>  \- _Laa moshkelah_ = No problem  
>  \- _Laa_ = No  
>  \- _Yajebu an athhaba al aan_ = I have to go  
>  \- _Uhibbok_ = I love you  
>  \- _Ma'a salama_ = Goodbye  
>  \- _Ghareeb_ = Stranger


	14. Az Alma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an unexpected turn of events, Malik starts to, unwillingly and hesitantly, unravel the truth. And it ain't pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK nope I'm 5000% sure you guys saw this coming too. xD  
> ' _Az Alma_ ' means 'The Apple' in Hungarian. (:  
> Shit gets real.  
>  ~~Shit starts going down in this chapter lolol~~

Malik, albeit coming to the conclusion that he was still dreaming, decided to spend the rest of his time outside rather than going back to bed. The thought of going back to bed in a dream bemused him. Stepping out of his house, Malik eventually made his way out of his estate. He continued walking to somewhere, anywhere. He didn't know how long he had been walking; he himself was not entirely sure.

Malik observed all the greenery. Not one car or building was in sight; apparently he was far from any form of civilization. Various trees with obnoxiously long, twisted limbs dotted his environment. Every time he saw such trees, he always felt compelled to practice parkour on it. His father had taught him to parkour as a young child. That just added to Malik's positive experiences with his much beloved father. Yet, somehow, Malik still retained the knowledge.

Maybe he should try it again someday? He was sure that he still had the ability to climb trees and buildings and such.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he found a strong force pushing his back. He immediately found himself laying face down with something cool being pressed against his neck. Some bastard had tackled him.

"Where is it?" a husky voice whispered in his ear.

"What?" Malik mumbled, finding it difficult to speak against grass. He was still under the illusion that he was dreaming.

"You know what I'm talking about," the voice threatened, laced with impatience.

Malik was starting to get annoyed. If it was money the bastard wanted, well then he had come to the right place. But judging by the tone of this fools voice, it probably wasn't money that he wanted. It was probably more than that. "No I don't, you stupid bastard," Malik growled.

The figure seemed to hesitate. Malik then felt the knife dig a little deeper in his throat. The idiot was most likely doing it subconsciously. Malik then felt a slight surge of pain burning through his jugular. He stifled a yelp. That _did not_ feel like a dream. That could not have been a dream. That was realer than ever. But it was then when he realised something warm was starting to pool at his neck. Apparently the fool had cut a tiny, non-injurious slit onto Malik's neck. That angered Malik and caused him to thrash wildly. He nearly pushed the dolt off him when he was flipped over.

Malik stared. He didn't know what else to do. The other being stared as well. A familiar pair of amber eyes interrogated him. Malik did his best to glare.

"Malik?" Altaïr gasped. The fool looked genuinely concerned. He better be. Idiot had caused a minor injury on Malik's neck. Fucker.

"I hadn't expected anything more from _you_ ," Malik sneered coldly.

"It's not what it seems," Altaïr stammered.

Malik scoffed at the bastards pathetic excuse. "Of course it's what it seems. Altaïr, you have a fucking knife on my throat," at that Altaïr removed the knife from Malik's throat. Though it was dark, Malik could still sense the idiot's guilt. _Tch_ , serves him right. "Altaïr, do you think that I am mentally deficient? Because honestly it seems that you do."

"I can explain," Altaïr murmured.

"What is there to explain?" Malik growled. He sat up. Altaïr extended his arm to help Malik up. Malik declined the assistance and stood up by himself. He then placed his hand on the cut. Altaïr hung his head.

"A lot of things," Altaïr muttered, mainly to himself. Malik caught his comment.

"Please, do enlighten me," Malik replied dryly.

Altaïr seemed to hesitate. Malik looked at him expectantly. "Nothing," Altaïr eventually said.

Malik laughed crudely. "I thought so."

He began to walk away from Altaïr. Surprisingly, Altaïr stayed put. Malik felt disgusted and wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. For once, Malik was actually looking forward to going home. Maybe then would he actually get some peace. He'd clean himself up, make some tea, then go study that weird orb thing.

Oh, right. The orb.

Malik wasn't exactly sure why or how, but the thought of the orb and Altaïr went good together, in Malik's mind. They clicked. He didn't know why. He briefly looked behind. The fool was long gone. Not that he was complaining. When he turned his head again the dolt was standing _in front_ of him. Malik pushed him away and grumbled. Altaïr smiled slightly, then handed Malik a tiny packet containing a wet cloth. Malik realised that it was for his cut. Without as much as a thank you, Malik snatched the packet, tore it open, and dabbed it on his wound. He hissed as the contact between the cloth and the wound caused a burning sensation. Altaïr's face was masked with concern and guil. Malik glared daggers at him again, as if to remind him that this was his doing.

He continued wiping, and when he was finished he discarded cloth by throwing it at Altaïr. Altaïr caught the cloth without grimacing. Malik gaped.

 _What the actual fuck_?

Most people would wince, but Altaïr didn't hesitate to touch another persons blood?

That was it, the boy was an oddity.

"I'm going to walk you home. Because next thing you know, you end up fainting due to blood loss," Altaïr stated.

"It's just a tiny cut. And you have caused enough damage, after all. Your presence is not wanted nor needed," Malik argued.

Altaïr wasn't having any of it and ignored Malik's protests. He walked alongside the other boy in silence. After a while, Malik didn't even realise that Altaïr was still there. It was still dark out, and they walked under the umbrage of the trees. Strange, gnarled limbs cast an eerie atmosphere. Silence enveloped them like a disease. It wasn't until Malik reached his neighborhood, and eventually his estate that he remembered that he wasn't alone. He glanced over at Altaïr. The boy was gaping, obviously in shock and surprise at the amount of wealth Malik had, which was obvious due to his luxurious abode.

"What the fuck are you so surprised at," Malik snorted.

Altaïr's mouth hung open. Malik leered until he said, "Nothing. I never thought that your house, or mansion, would be _this_ big."

"Well, now you know," Malik snapped, "I am no peasant." He walked to the front door and entered the passcode to his house. He opened the door and stepped inside. "Normally I would never let an imbecile like you enter my house, but today I am feeling especially nice. Consider this a _privilege_ ," Malik grumbled to a visibly amazed Altaïr.

"Sweet house you got, Malik," Altaïr commented once he entered the house. He began prodding at a random vase.

"Don't touch anything, you fuckwad," Malik growled. Altaïr kept poking the antiquity until he realised that Malik wasn't fucking around, and that he wouldn't hesitate to rip his head off in a millisecond.

"Fine," Altaïr whined.

Malik sighed. Even though he had initially rejected Altaïr's attempts at an explanation, Malik was honestly more than curious to know. Was the fool really trying to kill him? Then again, if he did want to kill Malik, he wouldn't have looked so surprised to see him. That look on Altaïr's face was a sheer treasure. Absolutely priceless.

Malik was uncertain how exactly to approach Altaïr about that topic. He didn't want him thinking that everything was forgiven and forgotten. Well, truthfully, Malik didn't care too much about the incident, he just enjoyed seeing Altaïr guilty. And it was a bit unexpected, too.

"Want a Heineken?" Malik questioned.

Altaïr looked at him as if he had been offended. 

"What, did I say something wrong?" Malik asked. He hadn't said anything wrong, had he?

"Malik, what did I say about alcohol consumption?" Altaïr sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose to display his frustration and displeasure.

"Shut the fuck up, you're not my father," Malik snapped. He immediately looked down. Altaïr noticed that and was on it quicker than a bee to pollen.

"Malik," Altaïr started. "Where exactly is your father? And your mother?"

Malik's ebony eyes immediately flared up. "None of your fucking business."

"Yeah, I guess," Altaïr sighed and looked down. "Sorry."

Malik huffed out. "Stop acting all sad and shit."

Altaïr looked up. "I'm not."

"Yeah, well I'm real happy for you. Look, do you want a Goddamn drink or not?"

Altaïr stared at Malik for the longest time. Malik started getting embarrassed and flushed a bright pink colour. Altaïr smiled. "Of course."

Malik walked him to the kitchen and mumbled at him to choose whatever he'd like. Altaïr grinned. Opening the fridge he stuck his head inside, inspecting every nook and cranny. He eventually settled with a cold bottled Starbucks coffee. Settling his hand on the cap, he twisted with ease. The bottle opened with a loud _pop_. Malik flinched at the sound, and was praying that Altaïr hadn't noticed. He had. He grinned with that stupid, smug expression etched on his face. Malik growled.

Altaïr drink swiftly until the bottle was empty. Malik pointed to the trash can, and Altaïr proceeded to throw the bottle in it. It landed. Good thing it did, because if it didn't Malik would've had a fit.

"Thanks," Altaïr cheerily stated.

Malik mumbled a you're welcome to him. They stood in silence, again. They stood there for a long time. Malik didn't know what to do with Altaïr, but then he remembered about the orb. How was he going to ask Altaïr about that without seeming like a brainless idiot or getting an overly enthusiastic brunette disrupting his privacy?

"Hey, Altaïr," Malik began. Altaïr nodded his head, signalising for him to continue. "Um, can I, er, show you something?" Altaïr's eyes widened for one-fourth of a second before going back to normal and nodding his head again. Malik beckoned for him to follow. They walked out the kitchen, ran up the stairs, walked through various rooms and halls. Altaïr could not keep his mouth shut, both literally and figuratively. He gawked at the expensive, luxurious furniture in Malik's house and complimented him and his home every other second. They eventually reached Malik's room and Malik walked over towards the drawer. Before opening it, he whispered, "Promise not to tell anyone." Altaïr stuck out his pinkie finger. Malik stared at it in confusion. Altaïr laughed and said, "I pinkie promise," Malik hesitantly wrapped his pinkie finger around that of Altaïr's. Altaïr's grip was firm. Malik pulled his finger away from Altaïr's and scowled. Altaïr looked at him sheepishly. Malik went back to the drawer. He buried his hand underneath the neatly folded mountains of fabric, grabbing a cool, sphere-like object. His hand resurfaced. Clutched in his hand was the golden artefact. Looking at Altaïr, he came to the strange realisation that the boy's eyes strongly resembled that of the orb. They were both strong, piercing, gold, bold.

Altaïr gasped. He looked appalled. "Where did you get that from?" he managed to stammer, eyes still wide opened like that of a fish.

Malik hesitated, then answered. If he wanted to get answers, might as well be truthful. "Father's suitcase."

That caused Altaïr's eyes to widen even more, which Malik formerly had assumed was impossible. He was proved wrong. Frankly, he had _not_ expected such a response from the lad. Malik had expected Altaïr to be surprised, but he was not expecting such horror to radiate from the boy. Altaïr was acting as if Malik was holding a grenade, ready to blow up at any moment.

"Malik, do you even know what that is?" Altaïr stuttered.

Malik shook his head. It was just a Goddamn orb.

Right?

"Holy shit, they _were_ right," Altaïr murmured to himself. Malik glared at him, hoping that would spill out some answers. They had no effect whatsoever.

Altaïr continued to goggle.

"I, um," Altaïr quickly muttered hesitantly. "I have to, uh, go." He started to walk out the room when Malik roughly grabbed his arm. Altaïr spun around, looking slightly shocked. He seemed to be hiding something.

"You are not leaving until you _explain_ ," Malik gritted out.

"I can't," Altaïr sighed. "You'll be in grave danger."

"As if I already wasn't from your fucking attack," Malik sarcastically retorted.

Altaïr looked worried. Malik had never seen him so nervous before. His grasp tightened.

"I suppose I might as well tell you so, uh, long story short: this orb is known as the Apple of Eden and had strong powers," Altaïr blurted out. "And we have been searching for it for a _very_ long time."

In that moment, something clicked in Malik's mind. "Was that... was that why you attacked me earlier?" Malik quietly asked.

Altaïr looked timorously at him. "I, uh," he tripped and stumbled over his own words. "Ugh, yeah but no. I thought you were someone else."

"And who is this _we_ you speak of?"

Altaïr gulped and exhaled with much trepidation. "This is more than you should know."

Malik shook him. "Tell me."

"I cannot. You'll be in too much danger."

"Tell me!"

"I do not have it in me to put you in danger."

"Tell. Me."

Altaïr began to say something, but upon seeing the dark look Malik was giving him he promptly shut his mouth.

"The Assassin's Brotherhood."

Malik rolled his eyes. "Haha, that was hilarious. Stop fucking around and just tell me already."

Altaïr looked annoyed. "But _I am_!"

"Altaïr, there's no such thing."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

"How sure?"

"5000% sure."

Altaïr smirked at that. He pulled out a slip of paper with a strange cone-like symbol on it. "Does _this_ mean anything to you?"

Malik stared at it. It looked vaguely familiar. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Uh, yeah, kinda," Malik admitted.

"Well, then, that just proves that nothing is true," Altaïr stated.

"And that everything is permitted," Malik suddenly blurted out. Altaïr looked at him with the strangest expression. Malik was now very confused.

"Malik, where did you get that—"

"I don't know!" Malik barked.

Altaïr narrowed his eyes. He then brightened a bit. " _Now_ do you believe me?"

"Believe what?"

Altaïr sighed. "Do you know what you just said?"

"No."

"That was the maxim of the Assassin's Brotherhood. It seems as if you are already acquainted with the Order and its purpose. Certainly this is not your first time?"

"No! I mean, yes! I don't know how I know it, seriously."

"Then how—"

"Look, if this is some sick joke or some shit, I'm not buying it."

"But that's the thing. This _isn't_ a joke."

It was now Malik's turn to open his mouth and eyes in shock; Altaïr already had his chance. Of all things, he never in a million years expected this to happen. He thought that the Assassin's Brotherhood was merely just a rumour, an urban legend, a myth of some sort. Bullshit whispered and gossiped about behind closed doors. Who knew that it would be... real? This type of shit was only supposed to happen in those crappy movies filled with overdramatic scenes. Sleuthing Altaïr's expression, he did not find one hint of humour. In other words, Altaïr was actually being serious.

Malik swallowed. His throat suddenly felt parched. "How... how did they know I had the Apple?"

"Oh, we know a lot more than you think, Malik," Altaïr hissed.

Malik shuddered. This was getting freaky.

"And what do you want from me?"

"The Apple. Nothing else."

"But why?"

"Because if not, this planet is done for."

"Elaborate."

"Because the Templars must not be able to get their hands on their object. This entire planet is fucked for sure if they succeed."

"Temples? What are those? What's their names?"

"Knights Templars. The Orders sworn enemy. They are the reason for everything wrong in this planet."

"Oh, _those_ guys. But aren't they supposed to be long gone? They're from the 12ᵗʰ century. How could they have survived for hundreds of years?"

"You could say the same about the Brotherhood. I don't know."

In the end, the only thing Malik could say was "Wow."

There wasn't much to say.


	15. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the past should be forgotten, some memories are worth keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is supposed to be a flashback, that's why it's in Italics. (: So this has nothing to do with the actual plot, I guess it's more of a filler than anything else. I hope it's not too sappy!  
> I listened to "American Wedding" by Frank Ocean while writing this. So there was the influence of the song.

_Malik watched crystal blue eyes interrogate a lone dandelion trapped between the chubby, tiny fist of a child. He found the tips of his mouth slanting upwards._

_"Look at what I found," a young child, no older than five exclaimed._

_Malik chuckled. "Nice,_ Akhi _."_

_The little boy pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore! Don't call me a baby." He went back to prodding at the dandelion. Malik found himself smiling again. That kid acted much too haughty for someone his age. The child was barely five. Malik decided to humour him._

_"I am sorry, Kadar. Will you ever forgive me?" Malik cooed, adding a little bit too much sugar in his voice. That caused Kadar to pout even more. "Why're you talking like that?" Malik eyed him for a moment. "That's no way to talk to your big brother."_

_Kadar continued with the sulking. "But I'm five!"_

_Malik wanted to burst out laughing. So? He was three years his senior. He'd always be three years older than him, no matter what. He'd always be the older brother. He'd always be the one having to overlook and protect Kadar from harm and danger. He'd always have to be there for him. Playing around, he said, "So? You're still a baby."_

_Kadar's jaw clenched, and for a moment his blue eyes seemed to be ablaze. He was surprisingly moody for a five-year-old and could get rather lofty. "Five is not a baby," he grumbled. "I'm not a baby!"_

_"Of course." Malik rolled his eyes. "Kadar, when you grow older like me you'll understand. Being a mature adult like me has lotsa responsibilities, y'know," He chirped as-a-matter-of-factly._

_"But you're eight," Kadar whined._

_"So?" Malik shrugged, then sighed. "Kadar, you'll understand when you're eight. For now you're just a baby."_

_Kadar just grumbled at that and walked away. Malik didn't care. Let him walk away, he'd probably just go inside for some cookies and milk. Something which Malik didn't eat anymore since he was an adult. He'd stick to tea; only real grown-ups drank that. He closed his eyes and leaned against the trunk of a weeping willow tree, it's drooping leaves protectively enclosing him within his own private world. This was his and Kadar's 'hideout'. A cool breeze licked the tip of his nose, ruffling his already unkempt hair. Exhaling in delectation, it took only a short while for Malik to fall asleep._

_Malik woke up with a start. He hadn't even realised the time. Peeking out of the tree, he realised that it was already dusk. He crawled out. How long had he been there? Probably a couple of hours. He walked towards his house. Maybe he'd have some tea with Kadar. A fine, strong cuppa. Then again, Kadar was much too young to appreciate the finesse of a rosey lee. Once inside his house he called Kadar. No answer. He called again, this time louder. Still nothing._

_"Kadar, where are you?" Malik shouted. The only reply he received was the slight echoes of his voice. He felt a knot tie in his stomach. He inspected every single nook and cranny in his house, taking a rather large amount of time due to the size of his abode. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His palms were sweaty from all his worrying. He felt a drop of perspiration trickle down the side of his face. Maybe outside?_

_Malik trudged back outside. What would_ baba _say about this? Malik was done for._

_"Kadar?" Malik cried. "Come out. We're not playing hide-and-seek anymore."_

_Silence answered his calls. Inspecting each and every bush, hedge, and tree in the entire area Malik was about to give up until he saw a light gleaming from somewhere._

_Oh?_

_What was that? He trudged towards the source, getting closer and closer and closer until—_

_"Aha!" Malik announced triumphantly. Baby blue eyes stared back at him. Kadar was sitting, a thick quilt wrapped around his body, holding a bottle of juice with a bendy straw inside it. There was a Nintendo DS in front of him, the source of the strange light Malik had noticed. Bags upon bags of cookies and crisps littered the ground. "I found you!" Frankly, he was very relieved to have found his brother. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be angry at the boy, since he was the responsible and reliable adult._

_"Kadar!" Malik chastised. "What were you thinking? Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"_

_Kadar started to grin cheekily. Malik scowled at him. His grin faltered. "I just wanna show that I'm not a baby," Kadar eventually murmured quietly. "'Cause you called me a baby. I wanted to show you I'm not a baby anymore."_

_Malik's expression softened._

_Oh._

_So that's what that had been all about. He looked at Kadar. The kid was still playing with that dandelion. His brother must have been much more mature than he seemed to have pulled this off. Any other five-year-old would probably be bawling and causing sheer destruction. Malik actually felt a pang of remorse and guilt. "I..." Malik started. "Kadar, I'm sorry." Kadar peeled his eyes off the dandelion and looked up at Malik. He began to grin saucily. "S'OK, Mal."_

_Malik smiled and brought his hand down to Kadar's hair and began to pet playfully. "Just promise never to do that again," Malik beseeched. He did not want to go through that whole process of sleuthing again._

_"If you say so, Mal," Kadar smiled._

_"And promise that you'll never leave me like that," Malik added. Because he actually missed Kadar's presence, even if he was just a five-year-old. Malik kept that to himself._

_"I promise I won't ever leave you Malik," Kadar vowed solemnly. "I will never, ever leave you. Not even if I'm up in heaven with the angels and_ Ummi _."_

 _Malik shivered. It had been a while since_ Ummi _'s death. Kadar was obviously much younger, and so was Malik. They both hadn't taken the news lightly, nor had their father. But for Kadar to use the reference without breaking down in tears? And the fact that he oh-so-casually said that he'd still be by Malik's side even in the end didn't help. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Kadar would be gone, permanently. If anything, Malik was supposed to die first. He was the older one, anyways._

 _"I will always be there to protect you,_ akhi _," Malik whispered, stroking his younger siblings hair as a sign of affection. "And I will never let anything happen to you. Ever. I swear on my life."_

_Kadar smiled and embraced his big brother. Malik smiled and placed a light kiss on the boy's scalp and forehead. They sat there for a while, arms still protectively wrapped around each other, surrounded by various hedges and shrubs. A thin wisp of clouds masked the pale moon. The crickets sang their lullabies around them. Kadar eventually let go of Malik and looked back at his dandelion. He inhaled, then blew out with much gusto._

_The flower of the dandelion exploded into a million pieces. Malik watched as they wafted through the air, dancing from place to place, eventually succumbing to nothingness._

_"_ Bahebbak _, Mal," Kadar uttered, looking up at Malik, soft, azure eyes twinkling. Malik chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair, causing the boy to pout albeit he secretly did not mind one bit._

 _"_ Wana kaman bahebbak _,_ Akhi _," Malik murmured, slinging his arm around the younger boy's shoulder. He stared at the cookies littered on the ground. Maybe he'd have some._

_Being a grown-up was tiring, after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's accurate; it's just that Arabic has _so much_ dialects it's not even funny! Since they're from Syria, I am assuming that they speak Levantine Arabic...
> 
> **Arabic Glossary**  
>  \- _Akhi_ = Little brother  
>  \- _Baba_ = Dad  
>  \- _Ummi_ = Mum  
>  \- _Bahebbak_ = I love you  
>  \- _Wana kaman bahebbak_ = I love you, too


	16. Daggers and Magnums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik needed some assistance. Well, _what else_ are friends for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, finally posting after quite a hiatus.  
> I am super sorry. D': But I am back, and I've figured some stuff out. Now I only need to pen my ideas into reality and _boom_ : I am ~~_almost_~~ done!  
>  Oh, yes, yes, [this is 'The Entertainment Room'](http://www.homeinteriorsinsurance.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/contemporary-interior-designs-300x236.jpg)

It had been weeks since Malik and Altaïr's encounter. Malik wasn't sure who to trust anymore. On one side there was the boy whom he deemed a dolt and a lunatic, yet deep inside the caverns of his mind he secretly yearned for his affection, albeit he never articulated this desire. Then on the other hand was his father, whom he despised. The man was never home, and where in the unholy fuck did he even get that weird golden orb thing, which according to Altaïr was the "Apple of Eden"?

In the end, Malik decided not to hand over the orb, even though he was punished with a pleading Altaïr. Malik seemed suspicious with his intent, believing it appropriate to keep the golden orb to himself. Not because of greed, oh no, but only because the artefact seemed too dangerous, much too peculiar to just be handed over like a Goddamn set of Pokémon trading cards.

And maybe it was because of that blasted artefact that Altaïr was frequently trying to rob Malik of the orb. And maybe it was because of that blasted artefact that Malik was starting to do parkour again. And maybe it was because of that blasted artefact that Malik was starting to practice with those throwing knives his father had given to him. And maybe it was because of that blasted artefact that Malik was starting to mimic those old sword and magnum techniques his father had taught him in his youth.

Malik still wondered why his father had taught him how to defend himself. What was the point of knowing how to wield a sword, or how to effectively operate a gun? He was the Goddamn heir of businessman, not a fucking Policeman or Samurai. He had still went along with his fathers strange requests, never questioning the man. Up until now.

Malik sighed and grabbed at his phone.

'come over for a sec, i need your help,' he typed. He knew who he wanted to send the SMS to. He hit 'Send'.

Only seconds later, there was already a reply. 'k. can i bring someone w/ me?'

Malik huffed out in irritation. 'no'

'aww, c'mon, why not?'

'b/c i said so'

'ok,' there was a brief pause before he received another message. 'their still coming btw'

'*they're'

'omfg not this again!'

'you need help, bro'

'that's why i have you to help me, amirite?'

'no'

'i can feel the love <3'

'just get the fuck over here'

'ok, ok. imma be there in a sec'

'be quick. this is some serious shit'

'i believe you 7000%, mio amico'

Malik set down his phone after reading that message. He pinched the bridge of his nose. If he wanted to, Ezio could have been the slowest person in the world. And, being the fantastic friend that he was, sensing Malik's distress he'd probably be here the _next fucking week_. Malik groaned.

And which of his poor playtoys was he bringing over now? He didn't want to add another person in this mess.

Malik was tired of keeping certain things to himself. Ezio was one of his closest friends, and knowing him he probably wouldn't ever betray Malik. Malik just needed some help, some guidance. He sought the end in a darkened tunnel, but he'd keep choosing the wrong path every single time. Malik could afford no more mistakes.

This orb was no ordinary object. It was sure to cause a lot of trouble along the way, and all Malik intended to do was try to prevent those problems from happening in the first place. He needed to get more information on the orb, too—

The ringing of a doorbell following by a loud repetition of knocking robbed Malik of his thoughts. _Had Ezio really arrived_ so _soon_? Since he was sitting in the kitchen area, Malik was within easy reach of the door. He stood up off the chair and trudged towards the main door. Pulling the door open, he was surprised to see a familiar set of electric blue eyes and chocolate brown eyes greet him.

"Hey, Mal!" Ezio chirped.

"Hey, Ezio," Malik replied. He then tried on a slight smile for his other guest. "Hi, Leo."

"Hello, Malik," the blond answered with a grin. "Nice house."

"Thanks," Malik had said before stepping back in his abode, ushering his guests inside. "Want something to drink?"

Leonardo shook his head and murmured a, "No thanks," whilst Ezio enthusiastically nodded his head, asking for a cup of coffee. They walked back towards the kitchen and Malik motioned at it. "Help yourself."

Ezio set to work at making his coffee. The Italian treated Malik's house like his own, which Malik did not seem to care about. Leonardo took in the architecture and artistry of Malik's house, gasping to himself and appreciating the sheer beauty of the mansion. Once Ezio finished with the blasted coffee, Malik beckoned at the duo to follow him. They ran up the stairs, eventually making their way to what Malik liked to call 'The Entertainment Room', which was basically a large room with various beanbags, cushions, quilts, and pillows. There was a tall rack filled with Xbox and Play Station games, and also movies, most of which Malik never touched. Next to it were Xbox 360 Slim and Play Station III consoles, once again scarcely touched by Malik. Plastered on the wall was a broad HD LED TV-Screen, with 3D features as well.

Ezio plopped down on one of the beanbags while Leonardo admired the room.

"Stay here," Malik commanded before dashing off into his room to grab the orb. He dug through his clothes, eventually uncovering the golden artefact. Grasping it's cool surface, he ran back towards the room containing his friends.

Ezio and Leonardo were in the same position as when Malik had left, with Ezio sprawled all over the cushions and beanbags while Leonardo goggled away at every object in the room. When Malik entered, all eyes were on him. At first they were lazy, simply to scrutinise the intruder and make sure that he was none other than Malik Al-Sayf. But those sluggish stares soon turned to open-mouthed gapes once those eyes reached the aureate orb in Malik's hand.

" _Now_ ," Malik said, flicking the orb up and down as if it were a mere toy ball, catching it each time, "Do you understand why I called you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Italian Glossary**  
>  \- _Amico mio_ = My friend


	17. Disregarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik finds out that Altaïr wasn't the only one acting strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Guess which asshole decided to update a fic after four whole fucking months! This one!
> 
> I am sorry, I guess I just got carried away with other fics and stuff. I just noticed this fic, which I'd started writing months ago but never finished. But since I started it I guess I'm supposed to finish it. I am not entirely satisfied with this chapter though but yeah.

Ezio abruptly stood up. He roughly tugged Leonardo by the arm, causing him to be on his feet as well. Leonardo pouted at him, but Ezio ignored it, looking rather distressed.

"Er, I need to go home right now it's been great seeing you come on Leo, bye Mal," Ezio sputtered in one breath. He wrapped his fingers around Leonardo's wrist and proceeded to walk towards the exit, Leonardo looking reluctant. Malik blocked the door with his body in response.

"The fuck are you in such a hurry for?" Malik questioned, warily eying his oldest Italian friend. Why the fuck was everyone leaving whenever they saw that blasted orb? Something shady seemed to be happening, and Malik didn't know _what_ it was.

"Um... homework?" Ezio said doubtfully.

Malik burst out laughing. Ezio was the worst liar. And the sheer thought of Ezio doing homework, of all things, was just unimaginable. Ezio _never_ did his homework. He'd either copy off of people, he'd pay someone to do it for him, or he'd woo girls into doing them for him/ giving him the answers. It was a miracle that Ezio was still in High School. Probably had something to do with his family; they had their connections.

"Bullshit," Malik muttered after calming down.

Ezio looked uncomfortable, but he loosened his grip on Leonardo and decided to sit down. He knew he wouldn't be getting out. Leonardo sat down after him. The duo eyed the golden orb Malik was holding for another couple of seconds before Ezio inhaled and stated, "That is no ordinary object you are holding."

"So they say," Malik murmured, toying around with the orb. "What is it then?"

"Apple of Eden," Leonardo chirped. "I just never thought I'd _actually_ get to see it." Leonardo stepped over towards Malik, and continued harassing the orb with his eyes.

Malik sighed. "Tell me something I don't know."

Leonardo opened his mouth, but Ezio looked over at him with an undecipherable expression. Leonardo pressed his lips together promptly, causing Malik to raise a brow with impatience. "Well?" huffed Malik.

"Well, Malik, we'll be seeing you at school," proclaimed Ezio, once again trying to leave. His endeavours were met with no success, as Malik simply blocked the door with his body again.

"You're not leaving till you tell me why you're both acting like a bunch of shady fuckers," threatened Malik.

Ezio laughed. It was that annoying, fake laugh he did whenever he was nervous. "We're not acting shady."

Malik stared incredulously. Was he serious? Even a blind man could tell that he was bullshitting.

"Right, Leo?" Ezio looked over at Leonardo, who looked confused for a brief second before playing along and nodding feverishly after Ezio nudged an elbow into his ribcage none too gently.

"Ezio, please. I could read you like a fucking book. Stop lying," Malik said. It was true. What the hell were they keeping from him? Surely this aureate ball was of no significance.

Leonardo's false expression faltered, and that was all the proof Malik needed to know that there was something happening behind his back. His patience was beginning to wear thin. "We could stand here all fucking day."

Ezio's patience, too, was fading away. "Malik," he growled. "You're only getting yourself in more trouble by doing this."

Malik rolled his eyes. "I've been in trouble more than once in my life. I'm sure I'll be able to handle a dumb ass ball."

Ezio was to utter a retort, but Leonardo's hand clamped comfortingly onto his shoulder. If it were not for Leo's silent, pleading eyes his stubborn friend would get an earful. Malik was too stubborn for his own good, but he'd be swallowing his words later on. Ezio was sure.

After a moment of silence and stares from both Leonardo and Malik, Ezio exclaimed, "Fine. Since he's asking for it and wants it so fucking bad, he can have it." He looked over at Leonardo with an expectant expression, "Leo, you can have the honour of explaining."

Leonardo looked shocked, but he knew that Ezio's decision was final; he wasn't changing his mind.

He stared awkwardly at an expectant Malik, not knowing how to start. "Um, that is the Apple of Eden."

"I know that," snapped Malik.

Leonardo sighed. "Just ask me questions and I'll answer them. It'll make our lives easier."

Malik nodded slowly. "Alright. Where did this thing come from?"

"First Civilisation."

"Elaboration?"

Leonardo scratched the back of his head. "I do not know much about them other than that they were here before humans."

Malik nodded slowly. "Why do people want this thing?"

A slight smirk formed on Leonardo's mouth. "That question would be answered by knowing what it does."

Malik looked up and huffed. "Well, then what the hell does this thing do?"

"Based off what I know, this thing gives the user incredible power."

"Such as?"

"Holograms, visions of the future and past, possessing peoples minds, stuff like that. It  can be incredibly dangerous if put into the wrong hands."

Something clicked in Malik's mind. "Is that why idiots keep chasing after this thing?"

"Yes," Ezio and Leonardo said simultaneously.

"But, then..." Malik started, flicking the Apple up and down again. "How do you guys know all this?"

"That, my friend," said Ezio, placing his hands on Malik's shoulders, "Is for another day." With that, he shoved Malik aside so that he could leave with Leonardo. The situation was getting out of hand, and there was too much information for Malik to know, let alone process. He didn't want to lay hands on one of his best friends, but he had to, else he'd never leave. It was already bad enough that, of all people, his friend had it. That just made it harder. As smart as Malik was, he could not have that orb. The Apple belonged to the Order.

Leonardo sent Malik a sorry look, who was still recovering from everything that had just happened in the past fifteen minutes.

When they'd left, Malik looked down at the glowing orb.

 _This thing_ , he thought, _yields great power_. _And it is within my grasp_.

He shook his head and walked to his room, hiding the artefact by placing it beneath a pile of clothes.

All that bullshit was getting stressful.

He needed to get his thoughts off the damn thing.

He grabbed a pack of _Dunhill_ and a lighter from his drawers. He removed one cigarette and lit it with the lighter.

Altaïr's warning was disregarded.


End file.
